Ava took a deep, steadying breath as she stood outside the towering wrought-iron gates of her father's palatial estate. The intimidating barriers loomed before her like forbidding sentries, their elaborate ironwork seeming to mock the tremulous pounding of her heart.
For years, she had steadfastly avoided this place - a monument to old money and family drama that she had fought so hard to escape. But the pleading words of her trusted assistant, Mrs. Williams, had finally worn down Ava's resistance. Claiming urgent matters about her potential inheritance, the kindly woman had begged her to hear Charles Taylor out, if only this once.
With a resigned sigh, Ava reached for the intercom, her finger hovering over the call button with uncharacteristic trepidation. This was her father's domain, his kingdom where he reigned supreme as an omnipotent billionaire patriarch. She was merely an errant princess being summoned back into the fold, however reluctantly.
