At Ivory Towers,
Thursday morning began with a quiet tour after breakfast.
Alaric led Aveline into their newly renovated closet, the air still sharp with the scent of fresh paint and wood. Light from the ceiling spilled in soft brilliance, catching on the tall glass panels and sleek doors.
Aveline's lips curved as she glanced around, approving of the interior designer's choices. "It looks perfect," she murmured.
Alaric gave a small nod, turning to the housekeeper, Martha. "Get rid of the scent before we move in," he instructed, his tone calm but firm.
"I'll take care of it, Mr. Lancaster," Martha responded, bracing herself for the long day ahead.
When they left the closet, they moved toward the private garage below. An entire floor was reserved only for Alaric's cars. Rows of gleaming luxury vehicles rested under soft overhead lighting. Each one expensive enough to turn heads on any street, yet they looked like soldiers lined up for inspection.
