The heavy wrought-iron gates of the Blackwood estate stood open, but for the first time in three years, there were no groundskeepers tending the lawns, no security detail stationed at the entrance, and no staff waiting by the front doors.
Adrian drove his sedan up the winding gravel driveway, the tires crunching loudly against the stones.
He parked in front of the grand manor, turned off the ignition, and sat in silence for a long moment. The silence outside was heavy, but the silence inside his chest was suffocating.
He stepped out of the car and walked into the grand foyer.
Yesterday, this house had felt like a trophy, a symbol of everything he had stripped from the Laurent family to build his own empire. Today, it felt like a tomb.
Adrian walked slowly through the ground floor, his
