It was the third day—
the day everything changed.
The day a girl with trembling hands and a bruised heart stepped away from the life she knew…
and into a world that had been waiting for her long before she ever realized it.
Abigail stood in front of the hostel, ready to leave with jasper. The sky above was a pale morning gray, the kind that carried the scent of endings and beginnings at the same time.
Her parents were already outside, their suitcases neatly stacked, though neither had the strength to pretend this was just another trip. Their faces were drawn tight with quiet sorrow, the type of sadness that sits in the bones.
Jasper—bright-eyed, talkative Jasper—stood by the car Aurora had sent. He leaned casually against the door, pretending not to stare at the raw emotion unfolding in front of him… but he saw everything. He always did.
Abigail threw herself into her mother's arms one last time. Her mother held her as if letting go would shatter her completely.
"My baby," she whispered, voice trembling. "You'll be okay. You're strong. Stronger than you know."
Abigail's tears fell freely, soaking into her mother's shoulder.
"I'll miss you," she choked out.
Her mother stroked her hair gently, the way she always did when Abigail had nightmares as a child.
"You're not losing us," her mother whispered. "You're just… stepping forward."
When she finally pulled away, Abigail's vision blurred, the world dissolving into watercolor shapes. She turned to her father. He didn't cry—he never did—but today his silence felt heavy, carved from stone.
He held her shoulders, thumbs brushing her arms in that steady, anchoring way she'd always relied on.
"Take care of yourself, Abby," he said, voice rough. "And remember—you can always come home."
The car door shut behind her with a dull thud that felt like a final heartbeat. The moment it closed, reality slammed into her.
She was leaving everything familiar behind.
The engine hummed to life. The road stretched out before them like a ribbon into the unknown.
Jasper flicked a glance at her through the rearview mirror.
"Alright, Miss Sad Eyes," he said, dramatically clutching his chest, "if you keep crying like that, I'll start bawling too. And listen—me crying is a public hazard. Ugly stuff. Tragic. You don't want it."
Abigail sniffled despite herself. "You're impossible."
"Guilty as charged," he said with a grin that sparkled like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. "Come on… give me something to work with. Tell me something interesting."
She gave a half-laugh. "No, you first. Tell me something interesting about your boss."
Jasper raised a brow. "Oh? You mean Sullivan?"
"Yes," she said, wiping her cheeks. "Everything you know."
The traffic light ahead blinked red. Jasper eased the car to a smooth stop, then leaned in conspiratorially.
"Well… he's complicated," Jasper said. "A man wrapped in mystery, sealed with silence, dipped in steel, and sprinkled with 'Don't talk to me.'"
Abigail blinked. "That's… poetic."
"And accurate," Jasper added proudly. "Hard to read, even harder to understand. But—" he lowered his voice, "—under all that ice? I think he's got a soft heart."
That made Abigail pause. Sullivan? Soft-hearted?
"Really?" she asked, unsure if he was joking.
He nodded solemnly. "Yep. Don't tell him I said that, though. He'll deny it till heaven cracks open."
Abigail laughed then—a small sound, but genuine.
Jasper grinned like he'd been waiting for it. "There it is. The smile. I was starting to think you left it at home."
"I can see why he keeps you around," she said.
"Because I'm incredibly handsome?" he asked, flipping imaginary hair.
"No," Abigail said with a growing smile. "Because you're funny."
Jasper gasped offensively. "Are you saying I'm not handsome?"
"You're handsome enough," she teased.
They rolled forward again as the light turned green. The atmosphere inside the car shifted—not fully light, but softer, warmer.
After a moment, Jasper said, "You know, in all the years I've worked with him… I've never seen him laugh."
"Not even once?" Abigail asked, surprised.
"Nope. The man is like a statue with an expensive wardrobe. I could list his dislikes easier than his likes, and even that list is probably incomplete."
Abigail turned toward the window. The glass reflected her face—tired eyes, swollen from tears, yet something faintly determined.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll figure him out myself."
Jasper shook his head with a smile. "Good luck, Miss Braveheart. You're gonna need it."
The car continued down the long stretch of road, the city melting into vast open land. Yet Abigail's heart remained stuck at the moment she left her parents. Her mother's trembling smile. Her father's steady hand.
A thousand questions circled like restless birds.
Did I make the right choice? Will they be okay? What if something happens? What if I can't come back?
But this was her path now. Whether destiny pushed her or fate pulled her—she was already in motion.
The car slowed.
Abigail looked up.
Ahead stood a massive wrought-iron gate polished to a mirror shine. Twisting patterns of silver curled along the bars like vines frozen mid-climb.
Etched in bold silver letters:
SULLIVAN ESTATE
The gates swung open with a deep, metallic groan that echoed through the trees, like something ancient waking.
The car rolled forward along a winding path lined with towering oaks whose branches intertwined overhead, creating a cathedral of green shadows. Sunlight filtered through in broken beams, dancing across the polished hood.
Statues stood silently between the hedges—wolves, lions, winged creatures she couldn't name—carved with such precision they looked like they might spring to life.
The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt. Not oppressive… but powerful. A presence. As if the estate itself was watching.
Finally, they stopped before a mansion that stole Abigail's breath.
Ivory walls climbed high, smooth and elegant. Glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, reflecting the sky like fragments of a different world. A balcony wrapped around the upper floor, draped with black steel railings carved with intricate designs.
It wasn't a house.
It was a kingdom.
Silent. Majestic. Untouchable.
Abigail stepped out slowly, her eyes wide.
"It's… beautiful," she whispered.
Jasper smiled proudly. "Welcome to your new home, Miss Abigail."
But Abigail inhaled—and a strange shiver crawled down her spine.
The mansion was breathtaking, yes. But it carried something else too.
A quiet intensity.
She didn't know whether to step forward…
or run back to the life she had just left.
But either way—
her story had already begun.