The early morning air felt cool against my skin while we sat on the outdoor stone terrace. The household staff had set a small round table with crisp white linen and heavy silver cutlery. The gardens surrounding the estate looked vibrant in the dawn light, but we did not focus on the scenery. We were waiting for our guest to arrive, and the quiet atmosphere felt very heavy with anticipation.
Henry walked out onto the terrace carrying a silver tray. He placed a fresh pot of dark coffee in the center of the table alongside three porcelain cups. He arranged a small plate of warm pastries near the edge, ensuring the breakfast presentation met the strict standards of high society.
"Harrison is driving through the main security gates right now," Mason informed me after he checked a brief message on his mobile phone. "He thinks this is a simple social call to celebrate our public success at the charity gala."
