The next morning, Tryson descended the grand staircase, his athletic form dressed in a sleek sports outfit that hugged his physique perfectly, signaling his readiness for an invigorating jog around the estate.
The cool morning air seeped in through the slightly open windows, promising a refreshing start to the day.
As he adjusted the headphones over his ears, his gaze swept briefly across the polished wooden floor, and he froze mid-step at the sight of Angel.
Angel, with her tousled hair framing her face and her sleepy demeanor evident in her slow, drowsy movements, stepped out of the room and headed toward the kitchen.
Dressed casually but elegantly in a loose, comfortable outfit, she exuded a natural charm that seemed to light up the space despite her evident exhaustion.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as they landed on Tryson, who was making his way downstairs, looking every bit the image of a man who owned the world.
