(Steven, 3rd POV)
The gates recognized his car before any person ever did.
Steel parted in perfect mechanical obedience, revealing the long, symmetrical driveway lined with clipped hedges and cold white lights. The Sy estate stood ahead like it always had — immaculate, precise, and entirely unwelcoming.
A house built to impress nations.
Not to raise children.
Steven pulled to a stop beneath the awning, and the engine fell quiet. The silence that followed was so complete it felt rehearsed.
He stepped out and handed the car key to the valet who was already waiting.
The air here felt different from Michelle's house. Not warmer. Not softer. Just… immaculate. Like silence packaged and polished.
Inside, a maid bowed faintly. "Young Master Steven. Welcome home."
"Thank you," he replied automatically.
