The wrought-iron gates parted slowly, heavy and theatrical, like curtains rising on the final act of a play everyone had expected to end happily. The car rolled forward onto polished marble that glead black and white under the morning sun, every tile whispering luxury and new beginnings.
She leaned toward the window, breath catching.
The mansion rose before them like sothing carved from a dream — pale stone and graceful arches, dark-frad windows reflecting golden light, two stories of diterranean elegance wrapped in old-world craftsmanship. Towering pines and swaying palms stood sentinel behind it.
Balconies with intricate iron railings overlooked manicured gardens where white flowers blood in perfect, obedient rows.
Lanterns glowed softly even in daylight, as if the house itself refused to wait for night to show its warmth.
It looked like it had been waiting for her.
Diana brought the car to a smooth stop.
Phei was already out, jogging around to the passenger side with boyish energy that hadn’t dimd even after everything he’d been through. He pulled the door open with a dramatic flourish and offered his hand.
She took it and stepped onto the marble she had never walked before, eyes wide as she stared up at the sheer impossible scale of the place. This wasn’t a house. This was a statent that belonged in glossy magazines, blockbuster movies.1
"The architecture..." she breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "It’s..."
Phei spread his arms wide, grinning like a magician who had just pulled off the greatest trick of his life.
"Welco ho, Mother."
She turned to him slowly. Blinked once. Twice.
"Do you... live here?"
"I told you — I’m one of the richest teenagers in the world now." That familiar trouble-making grin spread across his face, that had always ant she was about to lose an argunt whether she liked it or not.
"And that I have a second surprise for you."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope, pressing it gently into her hands.
"You own the place."
Her mouth fell open.
"Before you say anything—" He raised a hand, cutting off the protest he knew was coming. "It’s already paid for in full. I own my own property, and I can’t resell this one back for at least two years. So, you’re legally not allowed to say no."
She stared at the envelope. At him. At the mansion looming behind him like a beautiful accusation.
Then back at him.
A slow, knowing smile curved her lips.
"Maybe you’re forgetting just how shaless I can be." Her voice was calm, steady — the voice of a woman who had already lost too much to waste ti pretending pride still mattered. "I know you’re rich now. There’s no way in hell I’m saying no to a mansion."
Phei’s grin cracked into genuine, relieved laughter. He pulled her into a tight, warm hug — the kind only a son who had laughed at death itself that had been getting ready to take her.
"That’s what I’m talking about."
He released her and took her hand, leading her around the side of the mansion where another car waited silently on the marble drive like a sleek predator in repose.
Low. Aggressive. Black as midnight with chro accents that caught the light like expensive jewelry. The Park Motors emblem — that winged "P" — glead proudly on the grille, screaming Legacy engineering, Legacy money, and Legacy taste.
"Maya personally gifted this to you," Phei said. "She insisted the Park PLE Coupe sits too high for you. You deserve sothing low, sleek... and dangerous
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