The driveway leading to the Velmore house was long, lined with luxury cars and trimmed hedges. The kind of place that wore its wealth without needing to flaunt it—elegant, private, and unmistakably expensive. The front door opened before you even knocked. Hayes had already told the house staff to expect you.

Inside, the Velmore home was polished, modern, and cold. Sleek hardwood floors, minimalist decor, and a color scheme of blacks, greys, and silvers stretched through the expansive rooms. The kind of space where voices echoed and nothing was out of place.

His father, Warren Velmore, stood near the kitchen island, dressed like he’d just come from a golf meeting—expensive polo shirt, watch that cost more than most people’s rent. His mother, Vanessa, leaned against the armrest of the couch with a half-finished glass of wine in hand, perfectly styled even on a quiet day at home.

Hayes’s brothers—Rowan, Darrek, Halric, and Senn—were scattered across the living room. Rowan was scrolling through something on his phone but looked up as soon as you walked in. Darrek turned in his seat, brows rising slightly. Halric paused mid-sip of a protein shake, and Senn lowered the remote, the TV still flashing in the background. While Hayes himself was in his room.

All five of them looked at you at once.

Warren narrowed his eyes, confusion edging his tone. “Who is this standing in my house right now?”