Christian Achestan's Point Of View.
The party had finally begun, and the grounds buzzed with the chatter and laughter of my guests. My family had arrived as well, and of course their presence was a reminder of the Achestan legacy.
Among them was my father, whose sole purpose for the night seemed to be getting under my skin at each and every opportunity and then there was Hunter, my jerk cousin but standing near her mother, Aunt Emily, who had managed to put my father in his place earlier when his remarks about me had crossed the line. I had to admit, I liked her for that; she was a sharp tongued woman who did not shy away from confrontation — a real firecracker.
Greetings flowed endlessly, one after another, as if the evening were just a parade of hollow smiles and empty words.
These
