The Montoya estate looked so peaceful from above. Too peaceful. I stood at the balcony of my penthouse a hand rested lightly against the cold railings as my gaze swept over the vast property beneath me.
From this height, everything appeared controlled and orderly. Exactly the way I preferred it. The West wing lights glowed softly against the night darkness in contrasts to the East wing's deadness. Security moved along assigned routes below with disciplined precision.
The gardens stretched elegantly around the estate like carefully arranged camouflage which hid the violence the place was built upon. Power was disguised as beauty.
My eyes narrowed slightly and I commended myself of having built most of this myself. Not the walls nor the architecture. Anyone with money could buy those t
