Aria.
Rows upon rows of clothing stretched down both sides. Suits, tuxedos, pressed shirts, perfectly folded trousers, racks of jerseys, some with bold signatures scrawled across them, proof that even the famous Kai Blackthorn had other players he also looked up to.
Shoes lined the walls like soldiers, from polished dress shoes to trainers, cleats, and slippers. Ties in every color. Wristwatches displayed neatly in glass boxes. A gym bag sat lazily on the floor, but even that looked expensive, the leather still shining.
I just stood there, staring, my mouth parting slightly at the sheer size of it. The closet itself was almost as big as my old house back in Silverwood. My chest tightened at the memory. I folded my arms, glaring at the ridiculous amount of luxury around me.
“Of course,”
