The low hum of the Aurelius Viper filled the air as our car showed up at Crimson Heights. It was Langston’s villa. The Villa looked like something straight out of a storybook with its red brick walls, the massive oak trees, it all screamed wealth and power.
When the car stopped at the entrance, I could see a crowd of workers and security guards who lined up and stood there waiting. All dressed like they were welcoming some kind of VIP. Their expressions were serious, and their stances were rigid.
The driver stepped out first and opened my door. The moment I got out, I felt it.
The stares.
Dozens of pairs of eyes swept over me, and I could see their reactions before they even said a word. The stiffness in their shoulders became loosened. A few exchanged glances. Disappointment was writ
