More ti passed, and the view gradually changed.
The tangled skyways and jungle-like high-rises gave way to sothing completely different once we passed a towering tal wall.
Wide, manicured streets stretched ahead, lined with trees trimd into perfect shapes.
Estates stood proudly behind iron fences, each boasting its own courtyard — fountains , flowerbeds and so on.
So houses had marble columns that caught the morning sun, while others displayed glass balconies draped with vines.
Even the stores here looked different. Instead of crowded stalls or tall glass towers, the shops looked like fancy cafés and old-style galleries.
So had railings shaped like vines, and others had glass walls that caught the light in soft colors.
It didn’t feel like the sa city anymore. It was more like a district copied from old Europe.
Farther away, I saw rolling hills rising above the neighborhood.
On top of them stood huge structures, even bigger and grander than the ones below.
They looked down over everything like nobles watching their subjects, their shapes standing out against the sky as if to say, this is where true power lives.
The car kept moving up the winding road toward the hills.
At last, the SUV slowed to a stop in front of one of the largest residence on the hill.
Its gates stretched wide, and the Mansion itself lood over the others like a castle watching its land.
Forget rich—this was the kind of wealth where even the doghouse had central heating.
And in this district, where every square foot cost a fortune, owning sothing this massive was beyond insane.
"Aunt Ellie, just how much did Father pay for this place?"
She didn’t find my question strange at all.
"Your father bought it when you were still in diapers. Back then, around five hundred million. These days? Try five billion."
That much money for a house?. Forget living standards—just the inflation here could bury an ordinary family alive.
We rolled past the gates, and seeing it up close, I almost laughed. This wasn’t just a mansion—it looked like a damn castle.
The courtyard? Massive. Honestly, it was big enough to host a concert.
Right in the middle of the perfectly mowed lawn, a fountain sprayed water into the air, glittering under the sunlight like it was flexing too.
The house itself towered over everything. Layers of balconies, massive windows stacked on top of each other, and white walls so polished they looked like they’d been scrubbed every day by a small army of maids.
Even the stairs leading up looked dramatic, like the kind you would expect soone in a ball gown to descend in slow motion.
To the side, I even spotted a pool glinting in the corner, just casually lying there as if to remind , "Oh yeah, rich people swim too."
click!
A bodyguard opened the door. The mont my foot hit the ground, a line of maids and male servants stood waiting, perfectly still.
"Welco, young master." They bowed in unison.
I nodded once, rembering Ace never mingled with the staff. Better play along, at least until this whole place was dancing to my tune.
One step inside, and the air of wealth wrapped around ...literally.
The centralized air conditioning brushing over my skin. Just thinking about the electric bill made my cheap-ass heart squeeze tight.
Looking down, I found marble stretching beneath , polished enough to catch my reflection.
My shoes tapped against it, the sound fading in the grand space until I reached a staircase that split in two—because nothing says rich like owning two of the exact sa thing that does the exact sa job.
"Ace, your father’s waiting for you in the study." Ellie stated.
"Thanks,"
Following the path etched into my mind, I moved through a series of long hallways until I reached a pair of heavy oak doors.
Pausing mid-step, a prick of annoyance settled in my chest—mixed with the leftover resentnt of Ace rcer.
I t plenty of bastards before, but his father? Easily top tier. Didn’t visit a single ti. If he turned out worse than I thought, then whatever ca next was on him.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the doors and stepped into the study.
The room was vast, lined with towering bookshelves that stretched nearly two stories high, each one packed with leather-bound tos and antiques.
At the far end, behind an enormous mahogany desk that looked like it belonged in a private museum, sat my father, Daniel rcer.
Unlike , he had jet-black hair, and eyes to match.
He looked up from his paperwork, his face as blank as ever.
DING!
[Mission: Fool Daniel into believing you’re the real Ace]
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