The car slid to a stop in front of the Elford Mansion, its sleek frame cutting through the estate's pristine quiet like a black blade through silk. The gates—towering, ornate, laced with subtle enchantments—parted without ceremony, opening to the circular drive bordered by manicured hedges and faintly glowing pathstones. The kind of place where everything was expensive, and nothing dared be out of place.
The moment Damien stepped out, the difference was immediate.
The air here was sharper. Older. Laced with power and legacy and unspoken rules.
Elysia stepped out behind him, a pace to the side, hands behind her back in formal stance. Her presence as calm and composed as ever.
The guards stationed at the entrance stiffened when they saw him.
Their eyes lingered—just a second too long. A flicker of recognition interrupted by something else.
Surprise.
"Young master, you have arrived."
