The Cordell mansion was less a home and more a kingdom disguised as one.
Every surface gleamed; every shadow was choreographed. Chandeliers dripped light like liquid diamonds, and the polished floors reflected three generations of wealth back at anyone who dared walk across them.
Dinner here wasn't simply eaten — it was performed.
The mahogany table stretched the length of the dining hall, its surface so immaculate it mirrored the candles burning in gold holders down its center. Servants moved like silent machinery: one to pour, one to serve, one to clear. Two more waited at the double doors, hands clasped behind their backs, eyes forward, still as statues until needed.
At the head of the table sat Mr. Cordell — patriarch, empire-builder, the architect of Cordell Investments, Cordell Pharmaceuticals, and Cordell Motors.
