The car rolled through the iron gates of the Kingsley estate, winding past sculpted hedges and a fountain that practically screamed rich money. As twilight settled over the horizon, the mansion stood like a quiet monarch, its glowing windows casting golden halos across the stone driveway.
Jean kept her posture perfect, hands folded neatly in her lap. Beside her, Logan sat still… stone faced and unreadable. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was electric. Heavy with everything they weren't saying.
When the car stopped, the driver stepped out and opened Logan's door. He emerged first, offering his hand toward her. Jean hesitated for a breath, then placed her hand in his… not out of affection, but because someone might be watching.
As they entered the hallway, the scent of lilies blended with aged mahogany and subtle notes of candle wax. A butler greeted them with a stiff nod. "Mr. Kingsley. Mrs. Kingsley. The family is in the living room."
Mrs. Kingsley.
