The car rolled to a stop at the front steps, and I immediately knew something was wrong.
The guards weren't just standing at attention. They were coiled. Like springs waiting to snap. One of them had his hand near something I really hoped wasn't a weapon but probably was.
The driver opened Vivienne's door first. She stepped out like she'd expected nothing less, her posture perfect, her expression giving away absolutely nothing.
"Is it always like this?" I asked quietly as we climbed the steps.
"Only when Mother's home."
The front doors opened before we reached them. Mrs. Tanaka stood there, her face unreadable.
"Miss Vivienne. Mr. Angelo." Her tone was professional, but her eyes said good luck, you're going to need it.
The foyer felt colder than usual. The marble floors gleamed under the chandelier's light, and I swear even the paintings looked more judgmental than normal.
Actually, no. That was just the usual level of ancestral disappointment radiating from the walls.
