Third Person's POV
At Marshman Group, Marcus absently traced the photos on his phone screen with his fingertips.
The scent of fir wafted through the air, forming a faint barrier around him.
He had to admit that the designs were much more appealing—no wonder this woman had won first place; she had real talent.
His pupils narrowed slightly in the interplay of light and shadow, revealing the faint outline of his vertical pupils.
His assistant, Jones, pushed open the door and stepped in, her cedar-like aura slightly disheveled by the wind outside. "Sir, your mother is here."
Marcus put down his phone, and the fir scent around him instantly dissipated. He looked at the middle-aged woman entering the room.
Sidney carried an aged sandalwood scent mixed with the distinct aura of a dominant
