The car slowed as it approached the wrought-iron gates, which rose high and imposing, crowned with curling golden initials: A.M.For a moment, no one spoke.
The gates opened with a slow, almost theatrical sweep, and the car rolled through.
Isabella pressed her hand to the window.The driveway stretched long and grand, lined with silver-leaf trees and lanterns shaped like glass teardrops. The morning mist clung to the ground, making everything appear dreamlike—almost unreal.
Leo leaned forward between the seats."Are we sure we're supposed to be here?" he whispered.
Christian chuckled softly."Well… the invitation seemed clear enough."
As the mansion came fully into view, Isabella felt her breath catch.
It was enormous.Stone walls of pale ivory, windows framed in black iron, and balconies draped in climbing roses. The front staircase fanned outward like something from a fairytale, leading toward two massive doors carved with ancient patterns.
Everything radiated quiet wealth.
Not showy.Just… certain.
When the car stopped, two maids in immaculate uniforms were already waiting. Their movements were graceful, silent, perfectly coordinated. One opened the car door; the other bowed her head politely.
"Welcome to Ashwell Mansion," she said. Her voice was soft but trained — every word precise. "We've been expecting you. Please, follow us."
The three exchanged glances — excitement mixing with confusion — and stepped out.
The entry hall swallowed them in golden light.
Tall marble pillars.A chandelier that looked like a falling galaxy — thousands of crystal fragments catching the sun and splintering it into color. The floor gleamed like still water, polished to a mirror shine.
Leo stared up, mouth parted."This place is… insane."
Christian placed a gentle hand on his shoulder — warning him to mind his tone — but even he couldn't hide the astonishment on his face.
One of the maids stepped forward."Let us show you around. The master and mistress of the house are currently occupied with preparations, but you will meet them soon enough."
Her words left questions hanging.
Preparations.
Occupied.
Busy with what?
But no one asked.
They followed.
The mansion unfolded around them like a maze of beauty:
A ballroom with ceilings painted like a night sky.
A music room with a grand piano made of black glass.
Libraries, salons, rooms filled with paintings and gold-framed mirrors.
A courtyard where fountains whispered softly under rose vines.
Isabella touched nothing — afraid that even brushing the air wrong might disturb the perfection.
"Who exactly lives like this?" Leo murmured.
Christian exhaled slowly."Old families. Very old. Old money doesn't shout — it whispers."
And indeed — this house whispered its power.
What none of them missed:
There were portraits everywhere.
Faces watching.
Eyes following.
Generations upon generations of Ashwells.
But when Isabella tried to ask who was getting married — who the ceremony was even for — the maids only smiled politely and moved on.
No answers.Not yet.
It seemed that in Ashwell Mansion, secrets were part of the welcome.
And the family…would reveal themselves only when they chose to.