Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others

At exactly 5:30 AM, Niklaus Hathaway's internal alarm dragged him out of his limited four-hour sleep. He lay in bed for a moment, his body conditioned to the demanding schedule of his life. 

The faint glow of the early morning seeped through the heavy curtains, and he sighed before pushing himself up.

No time to linger, no time to think, he reminded himself as his feet touched the cool marble floor.

Niklaus's morning routine was usually precise and efficient. 

At his penthouse, he would have started the day with a rigorous workout in his private gym, followed by a cold shower to shake off any lingering fatigue. 

But today, he was at his father's house—a massive mansion devoid of his usual comforts—and there was no time to fuss.

He got to his feet, pulling on a crisp white shirt and a tailored black suit. Every button fastened with precision, every crease smoothed. 

The Hathaway name demanded sharpness in all things, and Niklaus would not disappoint. He paused briefly to adjust his tie in the mirror, making sure it sat perfectly flush.

Ignore the phone, he reminded himself when the urge to check his emails arose. 

He knew better—one quick glance at his inbox could turn into an hour of replying, planning, and getting sidetracked by the day's chaos. 

Instead, he grabbed his watch, slid it on, and took one last look at himself.

He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him with barely a sound. Niklaus moved quickly and silently, his polished shoes barely making a whisper against the marble floors. 

His heart felt unexpectedly calm, a rare sensation. He hoped to make it out of the house before anyone else woke up, avoiding the noise, drama, and overbearing personalities of his family.

But his luck ran out the moment he descended the stairs.

Six pairs of eyes turned toward him the instant his foot hit the bottom step.

He stopped in his tracks, his jaw tightening. His parents, grandparents, and, unfortunately, Dante, were all gathered in the foyer.

"Good morning, Mom, Dad, Grandma…ugh, Grandpa," Niklaus greeted through gritted teeth. 

The disgust in his voice was clear when he addressed his grandfather, who was currently asleep with his head cradled on his wife's shoulder.

He turned to leave, his hand already on the door handle when his grandmother's sharp voice rang out.

"Come back here!"

Niklaus sighed audibly, pausing mid-step. "What?" he said, his tone exasperated.

"Where do you think you're going?" his grandmother demanded, narrowing her stern eyes at him.

Niklaus shrugged nonchalantly. "To work. Some of us have to do that."

His mother, Lola, cut in. "We've been waiting for you."

Niklaus scoffed, his lips curling in a sardonic smile. "I was wondering why you're all up this early. I should've known."

Lola crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. "You made us leave our beds this early."

His grandmother nodded in agreement. "Why do you always wake up so early? Poor Roberto is still sleepy." She adjusted her husband's head on her shoulder, patting him like he was a child.

"Hug me tighter, Roberta," Grandpa Roberto mumbled, still half-asleep.

Here's the corrected version for that segment:

Dante's voice echoed from the stairs as he descended, yawning loudly. "How do you survive this, Mom? Dad? They're disgusting," he muttered, gesturing lazily toward their grandparents.

His mother, Lola, turned sharply, glaring up at him. "And look at the ganger coming down," she said, folding her arms in irritation.

Lorenzo, their father, finally glanced up from his magazine, raising an amused eyebrow. "It's gangster, Lola," he corrected mildly.

The room went silent as Lola turned her icy glare on Lorenzo. 

For a moment, she simply stared, her expression enough to drain the humor from the air. Lorenzo blinked, realizing his mistake far too late.

"Sorry," he muttered, quickly looking back down at his magazine.

The glare immediately dropped, and everyone in the room exhaled in relief as the tension broke.

Grandpa Roberto cracked an eye open, his voice a low rumble. "What gang are you even in, boy?"

Dante rolled his eyes, leaning against the railing. "I thought we were supposed to be focusing on Niklaus this morning. He's here, isn't he?"

Their mother's attention snapped back to Niklaus. "You're not leaving until you eat breakfast."

Niklaus frowned, adjusting his jacket. "I have work, and I'm late."

Lorenzo folded his magazine and set it aside, his tone calm but firm. "If you're under my roof, you answer to me."

Dante's eyes widened at his father's tone. He wasn't ready for a father-and-son clash this early in the day.

Niklaus smirked, his usual cool exterior barely cracking. "I don't live here. I don't have to abide."

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "You slept here last night."

Niklaus's patience snapped as he turned to glare at his younger brother. "Because of your idiot of a second son."

Dante, utterly unfazed, was already headed toward the dining room.

Niklaus exhaled deeply, the kind of long-suffering sigh only family could provoke. "Fine. I'll stay." He peeled off his jacket with deliberate movements, muttering under his breath.

"You're not leaving anyway," Grandpa Roberto mumbled, his eyes still closed.

Grandma Roberta huffed. "He's asleep, Niklaus. Don't take him seriously."

Niklaus glared at his grandmother but kept quiet, knowing any retort would only prolong the ordeal. 

She was stern and indifferent to everyone except her husband, who somehow received all her sweetness.

Their mother, Lola, clapped her hands as Dante's voice rang out from the dining room. "Breakfast is ready!"

Lorenzo rose smoothly, folding his arm over his wife's. "Shall we?" he said, leading her toward the dining room.

Niklaus lingered, watching them go. The Hathaway family was a circus, loud and overwhelming, but for all their flaws, they were his circus.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered to himself, following the noise of breakfast chaos into the dining room.