Micah returned to Ramsy Mansion just before sunset.
The sky above the estate was washed in pale orange and fading pink, the winter light thin and cold. The iron gates opened silently for his car, and the familiar driveway stretched ahead, lined with bare trees whose branches scratched softly against the evening wind.
The mansion looked the same as always…grand, impressive, and still undeniably his home. But ever since his grandmother passed away, the place felt emptier. It had become too big… too silent.
He stepped out of the car and walked inside, greeting no one. The servants moved carefully around him, lowering their voices instinctively as he passed. He gave a small nod and went straight upstairs to his room.
Once inside, he shut the door gently behind him. Micah exhaled and walked toward his desk. A thick folder of sketches lay inside the bottom drawer. He crouched down, pulled it out, and placed it carefully on the table.
