87. Château Chesney

Reginald got behind the wheel, started the engine, and drove off. The ride was smooth, smoother than any she'd ever had. In just fifteen minutes, they arrived at Kyle's house: a sprawling mansion designed like a French château, a palace in its own right.

As she took in the breathtaking estate, memories flooded back, of being here before, of a life that once felt like a dream. It took almost ten minutes to reach the downstairs balcony, where Kyle stood waiting, dressed in a maroon polo shirt and beige pants.

Reginald pulled up in front of the balcony and immediately stepped out to open the door for Cara. She suppressed an eye roll, thinking how unnecessary the gesture was—her hands worked just fine.

She stepped out of the car as Kyle approached, his signature smirk in place. "Good morning, darling."