The car drove into Blackwell Manor.
The iron gates opened automatically. Manicured lawns and fountains stretched along both sides of the drive.
The main house was a three-story mansion, every window bright with light.
When I got out, Elliot Hayes, the butler, was already waiting at the door.
"Welcome home, Miss Blackwell," Elliot said with a slight bow.
I nodded and walked inside.
Everything in the living room looked exactly the same as it had three years ago.
The Steinway piano still stood in the corner.
My portrait from when I was 18 still hung on the wall.
The fire in the hearth burned bright.
"Rest first," my father said. "We'll talk tomorrow."
I went upstairs and entered my room.
In the walk-in closet, everything I had left behind three years ago still hung exactly where i
