On Don's end....
When call ended, the holographic glow disappeared from Don's screen, leaving only the warm lighting of the mansion's interior reflecting faintly against the glass balcony doors behind him.
He slipped his phone into his pocket and turned.
At the entrance stood an older maid in a pressed black uniform trimmed with white lace. Her posture was straight, hands folded neatly at her waist. She gave a subtle bow.
"Sir, the table has been served," she said politely. "You may come this way."
"Thanks," Don replied.
He followed her inside.
The walk was short.
Polished marble flooring stretched beneath his steps as they passed through a wide corridor lined with framed artwork and low-lit wall sconces. The air carried a faint scent of cooked herbs and butter.
They arrived at the dining hall.
