SUNDAY afternoons at the Cole mansion were usually calm.
The large living room echoed softly with the sounds of a television program and the occasional laughter from the children. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, spilling warm light across the polished floor.
Adrian sat comfortably on the couch, one arm resting along the backrest. Hazel sat nearby with her legs folded under her, half watching the television and half scrolling through her phone.
The twins were sprawled on the rug in front of the TV, arguing quietly over the remote. Wendy sat beside them, her small fingers idly tracing patterns on the carpet.
Across the room, George the butler stood near the hallway entrance, observing the peaceful domestic scene with quiet satisfaction.
Then—
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Then again.
George frowned slightly.
Visitors on Sundays were rare unless expected.
He adjusted his vest and walked toward the front door.
Outside stood a woman.
Her posture was stiff, her gaze sharp and calculating as she studied the building.
The moment the door opened, her eyes flicked to George.
For a few seconds she simply looked at him, her gaze traveling from his polished shoes up to his face.
‘So this must be the butler,’ she thought.
“Yes?” George asked politely. “How may I help you?”
Shantel straightened.
“I’m here to see the owner of this house.”
George blinked once.
“May I ask who is asking?”
“Shantel Moore.”
He nodded slightly.
“And do you have an appointment with Mr. Cole?”
“No.”
George paused.
“I’m afraid Mr. Cole does not usually entertain unannounced visitors.”
“I’m not here for tea,” Shantel said bluntly. “Just tell him Shantel Moore is here and that I need to speak with him.”
George studied her carefully. There was something about the woman that made his instincts uneasy.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Please wait here.”
He closed the door gently and returned inside.
Back in the living room, the family barely noticed him at first.
Adrian glanced up when George cleared his throat.
“Sir.”
Adrian muted the television.
“Yes, George?”
“There is a woman at the door asking to see you.”
Adrian frowned slightly.
“A woman?”
“Yes, sir. She introduced herself as Shantel Moore.”
Adrian’s brows pulled together.
“Shantel… Moore?”
He searched his memory.
Business associates.
Clients.
Investors.
Nothing came to mind.
He shook his head slowly.
“Did she say what she wanted?”
“No, sir.”
Adrian leaned back slightly, thinking.
He was certain he had never done business with anyone by that name.
Still—
“Bring her in,” he said finally.
George gave a small bow.
“Yes, sir.”
He turned and headed back to the entrance.
The door opened again.
“You may come in.”
Shantel stepped inside.
The moment she crossed the threshold, her eyes widened slightly. The mansion interior was even more breathtaking than she had imagined.
Crystal lighting.
Marble flooring.
Elegant furniture.
Luxury dripping from every corner.
She swallowed hard.
‘This…’
‘This was what Amelia walked away from?’
The thought twisted strangely in her chest.
George began walking.
“This way.”
Shantel followed him through the long hallway.
The faint sounds of voices and a television drifted toward them as they approached the living room.
Her heart began beating faster.
But she forced herself to stay composed.
She had come too far to lose courage now.
George stepped aside as they reached the entrance to the living room.

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