(Sanya's POV)
The mansion looms ahead like something out of a nightmare.
Stone and glass rise three stories high, all sharp edges and cold elegance — the kind of building that doesn't invite you in so much as swallow you whole. Perfectly manicured gardens stretch in every direction, each hedge trimmed to the same height, each flower bed arranged with the precision of something that was never allowed to grow wild. I count one fountain. Two. Three. I stop counting. There are more. There are always more in places like this, where the wealth has to be visible from every angle or it doesn't count.
This isn't a home. It's a monument to power.
The car stops at the front steps. The driver opens the door. I step out and look up at the building that will be my address, my title, my life from thi
