The drive over was Celestia's idea, of course. She hadn't even given me a chance to suggest otherwise. "We're going to Marina's," she'd announced with that certainty that made arguing feel like trying to fight gravity. And somehow, before I knew it, we were pulling up the long driveway to the Godfreys' villa.
It had been years since I'd been there. The place hadn't changed much, though. The same sprawling front garden, the same ornate iron gates, the same house that looked like it belonged in a glossy magazine. If anything, it felt even bigger now, like stepping back into a part of my childhood I hadn't realized I'd left behind.
Celestia leaned forward in her seat, lips pursed as she scanned the place. "So this is Marina's?" she asked, tone light but her eyes sharp, like she was cataloguing every detail.
"Yeah," I said, pulling the car into the roundabout driveway. "Hasn't changed since middle school."
"It screams money," she said bluntly. "Like, loud money."
