When we stepped out of the elevator, Fleur had this weird look on her face. Not just the regular “holy crap, you are rich now” reaction anyone would have after seeing the place, but something else. Her brows were pulled together like she was trying to remember something. She wasn’t gawking at the marble floors or the gold detailing or the giant-ass mirror in the hallway like I was. She looked... focused almost like she recognized it.
The men behind us were already unloading the last suitcase into what could only be described as a fully furnished palace. Our stuff? Yeah, pretty sure it didn’t survive. Either trashed or left behind. None of our old mismatched furniture would’ve made sense in here anyway.
One of them handed me a sleek, weighty key card, gave a short nod, and left us standin
