-LUTHER-
I got out of my car and helped Paris hop off, the same way I’ve been doing for the past couple of years.
Yet today it felt wrong. Off-tune, like pulling a jacket from the back of your closet, the one you used to wear all the time, only to find it doesn’t fit anymore.
I rang the bell; Paris’s hand rested loosely on the crook of my elbow. She adjusted her designer dress, posing like she was about to step onto a runway.
My dad’s butler opened the door. Yeah, you read that right. Butler. Because apparently paying a guy to open a door in a uniform was still acceptable for the Lancaster family in 2026.
The massive door swung open, and we stepped inside. Luis, who has been working for my family for almost thirty years, led us to the sitting room where the guests were waiting for di
