A/N: Guys I am sorry we made a mistake in update yesterday before we edited that chapter, I have updated the chapter we had to update yesterday.
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The Maybach wasn't a car—it was a temple of money disguised as transportation.
Charlotte's jet, which cost more than half a town's people's lifetime earnings, suddenly felt like economy class with free peanuts and a crying baby in row 13.
The leather was obscene. Not "premium leather" like car commercials brag about—this shit was so soft it felt like I was being swallowed whole by a silk-skinned goddess. Every time I shifted, the seats massaged muscles I didn't even know I owned. If this car had hands, it would've been on the registry.
Ambient lighting glowed like liquid starlight—violets, blues, soft pulses of neon that made it feel like we weren't driving through Miami at all, but floating in some cosmic nightclub designed for billionaires and demons.
