The morning sun hovered just above the rooftops, spilling a hazy gold across the restless city. Eliana emerged from the estate's shadow like a fugitive breaking free of a cage, the battered packing box pressed tight against her chest. Gravel and thorns bit into her bare feet, but she barely noticed—pain was easier than looking back.
The streets beyond the Vexley gates roared to life around her, loud and unapologetic. Cars honked, engines growled, and strangers brushed past with clipped conversations and hurried footsteps. The air was covered with exhaust, fried dough, and the bitter promise of strong coffee from corner vendors. It was chaos, but it was hers—raw, unfiltered freedom.
