Ethan’s POV
The doors to the mansion opened slowly, Mr. Cole stepped inside first and I followed behind him. Immediately, the scent hit me. Cedar-wood, polished oak, fresh white roses. Home, the word settled heavily in my chest the second my shoes touched the marble floor. It looked exactly the same, towering crystal chandeliers hung from the impossibly high ceilings, their golden light reflecting against polished Italian marble floors imported years ago from Milan. Expensive artwork lined the walls, original pieces collected by my father over decades. Massive floral arrangements rested beneath the grand staircase, carefully arranged in the same style my mother always preferred.
Nothing had changed, not one thing and somehow that made everything worse. A line of maids and household staff
