>Mallory
By the time Mara pulled up to the front steps of the Bryce mansion, Asher had fallen asleep on my shoulder again. He always shut down after too much stimulation—and the airport had been more than enough for one day.
I held him close as I stepped out of the car. The evening sun cast warm streaks across the marble façade, making the estate look softer than it probably intended to be. Old wealth always tried to look intimidating, but all I could think about was whether they had carpets thick enough that Asher wouldn't trip.
Mara hopped out first, waved at a few security guards, and strode toward the entrance like she owned the place—probably because she practically did.
But the moment we passed the threshold, a small army of attendants lined up in perfect formation.
"As expected," Mara muttered under her breath.
They bowed in unison. "Welcome home, Miss Bryce."
