Chapter 169 – Where's Your Greed?
The Delacour estate had a weird kind of silence to it—one that tried too hard to sound elegant, like money itself was holding its breath. No chirping insects. No far-off hum of streetcars. Just trimmed hedges, floodlights on timers, and sensor-silent security meant to keep the unwanted out.
Which was funny, Lux thought, because technically, he was the unwanted.
He materialized just beside the east wing—shadow-blended boots landing quietly on manicured gravel, tucked behind the marble statue of a swan holding a harp which, frankly, felt like the result of a drunken bet between two interior designers and a Greek tragedy.
The fence loomed nearby—tall, sharp, warded. Not an issue. He wasn't here to respect boundaries. Or obey them.
He glanced up.
There it was.
