The penthouse smelled nauseatingly of lavender and chamomile.

Elara stepped out of the guest bedroom, already dressed in a sharp, slate-grey blazer and tailored trousers. She paused at the top of the grand staircase, looking down into the sprawling living room. The space, once a testament to Elara

"Careful with that corner," Elara instructed, her voice ringing out in the cavernous space of what used to be her architectural studio. "That drafting table is vintage. The legs are prone to scuffing if you take the turn too sharply."

"You got it, Ms. Vance," Marcus, the foreman of the elite moving

"I just don't understand why she's acting like a child," Julian muttered, staring fiercely at his phone as the Maybach sped down the Long Island Expressway. "She hasn't answered a single text in two days."

Chloe rested her head against his shoulder, her hand lightly tracing the lapel of his tailore