Climbing down from the golden-trimmed, lavish horse-drawn cart with her usual poised grace, Veyna expected at least a small cluster of maids lined up to greet her, bowing with nervous smiles as they always did.
But no one came.
Not a soul stepped forward.
That alone was enough to wrinkle her brows—but it was nothing compared to the obscene sight just ahead.
She froze.
Eyes widening, lips parting in horror, she saw the male workers—those she paid to tend her gardens and shape her pristine hedges—climbing up ladders by the mansion windows, their pants lowered, cocks fully out and stroking. One of them even moaned loudly as white streaks of cum painted the very walls of her estate.
"What the hell...?" she breathed out, voice dry.
They didn't even hear her.
