Andrew had not expected things to get this awkward. Nonetheless, he swore that despite the torn stockings, Aspen's pencil skirt had covered everything. There were no scandalous views or nosebleed-inducing reveals.

However, Aspen clearly disagreed. She changed into a fresh pair immediately, then fixed him with a glare sharp enough to flay skin.

"Quit staring. We're leaving. I booked a property viewing. We need a place to live, after all," Andrew said, eager to escape.

As the capital city, prime real estate was not hard to find in Blumedale. Yet, Andrew was not just looking for luxury—he needed somewhere even the Goldings' assassins and the Haywoods' schemers would not dare touch.

That was how they ended up at The Sovereign Residences.

Aspen, who had been fuming in silence, finally spoke. "We can't afford a broom closet here, let alone a house. This isn't about money—it's about power and connections. The kind we don't have."

"Which is why I called in a favor," Andrew said.