The elevator rose smoothly toward the top floor of the luxury apartment complex, its polished interior reflecting Luna's nervous expression as she gripped my hand tightly. The penthouse had been my family's home for as long as I could remember—a spacious dwelling that offered both privacy and the kind of security that came with living among the capital's elite.
"Daddy," Luna whispered, her voice carrying a nervous tremor, "what if they don't like me?"
I squeezed her hand gently. "They'll love you, sweetheart. Just be yourself."
The elevator chimed softly as we reached our floor, and I used my key to access the penthouse. The familiar entryway opened before us, revealing my mother's worried face almost immediately.
Alice Nightingale was a striking woman in her mid-forties, her black hair falling in waves past her shoulders and her azure eyes—identical to my own—carrying the sharp intelligence that made her invaluable to my father's guild operations.
