It was summer—finally, no more heavy jackets. I looked out the patio window. Perfect. The snow had melted completely, and the trees were alive again, their lush green canopies stretching across the driveway. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the scent of fresh earth and renewal.
The sound of the coffee machine pulled me from my thoughts. My coffee was ready. With one last glance outside, I turned away and headed to my marble-styled kitchen. I poured myself a pumpkin spice latte with an extra shot of espresso, the rich aroma filling the air. As I sipped, my eyes flicked to my kitty-inspired clock. I had 30 minutes to get ready before heading to the dance studio.
I took my coffee upstairs and stepped into my personal bathroom. Some people thought it was excessive, but to me, it was barely enough. One wall was a sleek mirror that doubled as a TV, while a small Jacuzzi overlooked the grove. The horses had already been let out, galloping freely in the morning sun. Beyond them, the garden sprawled in a vibrant display of red, blue, green, and white flowers. Near the gazebo, the landscape designer had placed a stunning horse statue, perfectly positioned to watch over the field.
I turned on the shower and the TV, letting soft music play in the background. My toiletries were neatly arranged in a cabinet beside fresh towels and a small remote that controlled both the shower temperature and the television. Today, I was in a hurry—a quick rinse would do.
After my shower, I stood at the sink, brushing my teeth before starting my skincare routine. Niacinamide, sunscreen, aloe vera serum—every step, carefully applied. I smiled at my reflection, only for my expression to falter slightly as I noticed my hair.
"Gotta retouch again," I murmured, tucking a loose platinum strand behind my ear.
If someone saw me, they'd say I was perfect. The daughter of Charlie Deemond and Loanna Zukas, I had inherited their best features—an auburn honey glow to my skin, almond-shaped hazel eyes, and plump, rosy-pink lips that fit perfectly against my small, heart-shaped face.
I stepped into my bedroom, a neutral yet girly space with soft beige walls, blush pink accents, and warm lighting. My bed was neatly made with silky cream sheets, and a plush throw lay at the foot. Across from it, a walk-in closet stood, its glass doors reflecting the sunlight that peeked through my sheer curtains. To the side, my vanity—an elegant Tom Ford Beauty makeup table—stood, its glossy surface holding only the essentials.
As I entered, I called out, "Alexxa, play Super Shy by NewJeans." The soft beat filled the room, setting a light, playful mood.
I sat at my vanity, leaning forward slightly as I reached for my mascara. A few careful swipes lifted my lashes, making my hazel eyes pop. Next, I grabbed a Dior Lip Glow in sheer pink, gliding it over my lips for a subtle, glossy shine. That was enough—I never went overboard before dance class.
Standing, I walked to my closet, sliding the door open. My dancewear was neatly organized, and I grabbed a black cropped hoodie, high-waisted leggings, and my favorite sleek dance sneakers. After pulling my hair into a high ponytail, I reached for my phone—an iPhone 16 Pro Max—encased in a soft pink cover with tiny rhinestones along the edges.
I scrolled through my notifications. Nothing urgent. The clock read 5 minutes to spare.
With a sigh, I stood and strolled out of my room, heading downstairs. As I reached the front door, I spotted Penny standing by the entrance, a small, neatly packed bag in hand.
She had practically raised me, always knowing exactly what I needed before I did. Her short silver hair was tied back in a simple bun, her eyes warm as she handed the bag to me.
"Have a good day, sweetheart," she said, tucking a stray piece of my hair behind my ear.
I smiled, taking the bag. "Thanks, Penny. What's this?"
"Just some snacks and an extra bottle of water. You always forget to carry one."
I rolled my eyes but took it anyway. "You make me sound irresponsible."
She raised an eyebrow. "Did you take your meds?"
I sighed, already feeling the irritation creep in. "Yes, Penny."
She gave me a long, knowing look. "Good. Now go before you're late."
Shaking my head, I pushed open the door and stepped outside. My Porsche Cayenne Coupe, sleek and casual yet undeniably expensive, sat in the driveway. I slid into the driver's seat, tossed my bag onto the passenger side, and started the engine.