Ivy’s pov
The car slowed down and then stopped at the long driveway leading to my childhood home. My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I looked out the window. The house stood still and silent, just as I remembered — old stone walls, a wooden porch, and trees taller than I had expected. The evening sun hung low, painting everything with soft orange light. It should have felt comforting. But instead, a heavy weight settled deep inside me.
Leon’s driver opened the door without a word. I took a shaky breath and stepped out. The air here was cooler, fresher than the estate, carrying the sharp scent of earth and pine—and something older, heavier—memories, maybe. My boots crunched on the gravel path as I walked toward the house.
my father was waiting.
He stood tall, his strong frame comman
