A Feast Fit for the Lyselles

The Rolls-Royce glided through the bustling streets of New York, its tinted windows shielding its high-profile passengers from the outside world. Inside, Elara sat comfortably next to Amara, their fingers intertwined as the car headed toward their next destination—a Michelin-starred restaurant known for its exclusivity and extravagant menu.

Helena, still in high spirits from their shopping spree, looked positively delighted. "I must say, this has been a wonderful day. And what better way to end it than with a divine meal?"

Gerald, who had spent most of the shopping trip as a quiet observer, merely hummed in agreement. "As long as we don't have to wait hours for our food."

Amara smirked. "Father, this place probably has a gold-plated reservation list. I doubt they make people wait."

Helena waved a hand dismissively. "Of course not. I personally know the owner. He'll ensure we get the best experience possible."