The late afternoon sun bathed the mansion's glass terrace, which swept out toward the jagged skyline of Avernon City. Today, Anna played hostess to a handful of prominent socialites—women from old-money circles who had begun to regard her with a newfound respect (and a healthy dose of trepidation) since she had officially become the Lady Devano.
The marble table was a curated spread of rare porcelain tea sets and delicate pastries. However, an "element of chaos" lay in wait behind a massive pillar: Lucifer.
The little prince had graduated from crawling; he could now manage a frantic, albeit slightly wobbly, sprint.
"So, Anna, tell us—what is it like raising the sole Devano heir? He must be quite composed, like his father, I imagine?" one guest asked, subtly gesturing toward her crocodile-skin Hermès Birkin perched on the adjacent chair.
