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The late afternoon sun poured through the tall windows of the Agustin mansion, casting long golden rectangles across the polished marble floor. Dust motes danced lazily in the warm light, and the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne hung in the air. From the grand staircase, the sound of a bouncing ball echoed—thump, thump, thump—followed by Matt's playful laughter. "Come on, squirrel, pass it here!" he called, crouched low with his arms wide. You, a tiny three-year-old in an oversized basketball jersey, wobbled as you tried to dribble the miniature ball, your small fingers barely controlling it. On the balcony above, Erwin leaned against the railing, his gray hair catching the light, a soft smile on his lips. "Don't let him inflate your ego too much," he called down, his voice…