The sun had barely risen when Matthew found himself standing in the center of his empty mansion, hands in his pockets, surveying the vast, silent space. The house had everything—elegance, history, and privacy—but right now, it lacked one important thing.
It didn't feel like home yet.
No furniture, no appliances, not even curtains. It was just a beautiful shell, waiting to be filled.
He could have sent his assistant to handle everything. Hire an interior designer, send a team to furnish the house, and be done with it.
But this wasn't just another project—this was personal.
And for the first time in years, he wanted to do things differently.
He pulled out his phone and dialed.
The line rang twice before his mother's voice came through, groggy but alert. "Matthew?"
"Good morning, Mom."
"Matthew! It's so early! Is something wrong?"
Matthew chuckled. "Relax. Everything's fine. I just need your help."
Teresa paused. "Help? With what?"
