As they emerged from the tree line, Zafron's eyes were drawn to a quaint little house nestled by the lake's edge. Its wooden exterior blended seamlessly with the surrounding nature, large windows reflecting the shimmering water. A wraparound porch invited lazy afternoons of contemplation, and a stone chimney promised cozy evenings by the fire.
'Well, isn't this just a postcard-perfect slice of paradise,' Zafron mused. 'I bet even the mosquitoes here are fancy and well-behaved.'
Cassandra's voice pulled him from his reverie. "I wasn't exactly the ideal child growing up," she began, her tone softening. "My parents were always busy, and I couldn't understand or accept their constant absence."
She paused, her gaze distant. "Martha, my nanny, essentially raised me. But even she had her limits with my... let's call them 'rich kid antics.'"
