Vaela ascends the marble steps of the Von Horitzburg estate with her shoulders back and chin high, but every click of her heel feels like it echoes through her heart.
The estate looms above her like a cathedral carved from shadows and centuries of generational wealth. The stone polished to a mirror shine, tall columns flanking the massive doors like ancient sentinels.
Two stone-faced guards in sleek black suits eye her with suspicion.
"Relax," one of them says, stepping forward. "State your business, miss."
Before Vaela could speak, the towering doors creak open.
And there he is.
Lucien.
Clad in a black-on-black suit, hair slicked back, and a tie that looks criminally expensive, he looks like he walked out of an old-world vampire romance and into a business merger. He's pale, poised… and yet his tired smile melts Vaela on sight.
"Stand down," he murmurs to the guards. "She's expected."
