THE two flying cars stopped and landed at their destination. Anthony got off the flying car and stared at the quaint two-story cottage in front of them.
The cottage exuded a rustic charm, its weathered stone walls covered in creeping ivy that had grown thick over the years. Standing two stories tall, it had a steeply pitched roof with dark, aged shingles that contrasted against the soft hues of the stone. Flower boxes brimming with vibrant blooms adorned each of the windows. A narrow cobblestone path led from where the cars had landed to the front door.
It might not rival the grand mansions and manors of the Grimaldi family, but Anthony could feel the love and care that had been poured into maintaining it. His sons seemed to share his thoughts, all of them thinking, 'So this is where Emmaline—where Emmy—had lived for the past 20 years or so.'
The one who broke their silent appreciation was none other than Nicol.
