They unloaded everything and entered the dusty, dark interior. Seventeen rooms for thirty-two people. Furniture covered in sheets. Cobwebs in corners. But structurally sound.
As everyone began hauling luggage inside and claiming rooms, Elara stood in the entrance hall calculating next steps.
The Verin family had distanced themselves. The house was barely habitable. They had limited funds.
But her people weren't exhausted from hauling luggage for two kilometers. They were functional, ready to work, capable of tackling the massive cleaning project ahead.
Because she'd spent twelve silver on carts instead of status.
Practical decisions. Always practical decisions.
It would have to be enough.
.
.
Elara pushed open the front door of the mansion.
Immediately, a wave of dust exploded outward like they'd opened a tomb. Thick, choking, ancient dust that hit them in the face.
"Cough—cough—" Dimitri staggered back, covering his mouth.
