I had the entire crew locked and loaded for those who'd be going with me.
Tonight we were rolling out to the Ghost Mansion as the whole family, and from there, straight onto the jet bound for Paris with the ones who'd be going with me to Paris.
Honestly, my women were vibrating harder for the mansion than they were for the City of Light itself—and I couldn't even pretend to be surprised.
The Ghost Mansion wasn't a house; it was a living, breathing monument to excess that made Trillion-dollar estate (if it existed) look like sad little starter homes.
Most of them had only heard about it in hushed, almost religious tones from Soo-Jin and Madison, the two who had actually stepped inside, spent the night, and returned looking at our main estate like it was a slightly upgraded garden shed.
Madison had tried painting the picture once during dinner.
She made it exactly three sentences deep—"the walls have veins,"
