The morning sun filtered through the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows of the Orion Gallery, casting long, golden fingers across the marble floors. Liam Livingston stood in the center of the grand foyer, surrounded by the faint scent of fresh paint and expensive upholstery. Over the past few days, he had moved through the luxury furniture showrooms of Manhattan like a ghost with a Centurion Card, meticulously selecting every piece of decor, every thread-count of Egyptian cotton, and every high-end appliance required to turn the cold architectural masterpiece into a functional residence. The work was exhausting, but it provided a necessary sanctuary—a buffer between his hidden life as the head of the Livingston Dynasty and the humble facade he maintained for the world.
With the final deli
