Lee Mason walked through the luxurious foyer of the penthouse.
Well, if he could be honest, it was more gaudy than luxurious. A clusterfuck of shiny things and expensive items thrown together without any care about their cohesiveness because the interior designer was either selling their soul for money or too afraid to say anything. Probably both.
With every step he took, it was clear that the space was made to be praised by a bunch of mindless entourages rather than to be enjoyed. Mason sighed in pity every time he walked past a painting in the foyer and an artistic vase in the living room. Whoever made them probably rolled in their grave knowing their creation was put inside such an obnoxious display to be revered by people who only praised how expensive they were.
Unfortunately, it was his mother who lived there, so he couldn't be honest.
"You're here," his mother, the first wive--ex-wife--of HS Group's chairman, was already waiting for him at the lounge table.
