The task of finding a palatial home in his price range was not an easy one. Oliver now had nearly eight million pounds at his disposal, but the estates in that price range were smaller than he had hoped. After months of searching, he was about to give up when he received a frantic call from his estate agent. A manor situated in the middle of over one hundred acres of land had just been placed on the market.

It had been bought and sold countless times since it had been built. Many of the most affluent had slept in its numerous bedrooms, but when their children grew or their fortune shrunk, they had no choice but to sell. Inventors, rich from the proceeds of their creativity had jumped at the chance to own an estate so fine, but eventually the call of their home countries beckoned them. And the last owner, his coffers filled with lottery earnings, had bought the property on a whim, but soon realized that while he had the money to purchase the home, he had nothing left for renovations or taxes. Deciding to cut his losses and salvage what he could, he asked that it be sold as it stood…completely furnished and in need of much repair.

Wanting to give his wife the most massive of homes, when Oliver saw the estate, he ignored its rundown condition and focused on the obvious. It was huge. Knowing the money from the sale of his penthouse would easily pay for renovations and new furnishings, he offered the asking price, and the deal was done. He mulled over telling Alena right away or perhaps waiting for the birth of his children to give his beloved wife her present, but when he realized her birthday was in a month, his decision was made. He had no way of knowing that her high-heels would never click across the slate floor of the entrance hall, nor would she ever ascend the grand staircase leading to the master suite. The day before her twenty-eighth birthday, during a thunderstorm which rocked the walls of a small clinic, Alena Kane died.

***

As Evelyn drove up the long, winding gravel path leading her to her place of employment, she smiled as the gray and black Bentley S1 Sports Saloon passed her on the way out. Addison’s weekly staff meeting at Kane Holdings was held promptly at eight every Thursday morning, and just like so many other things in Addison’s life, her Thursday morning regime was almost etched in stone. Waking at six, she would leave the house thirty minutes later, and when she arrived at the office, a catered breakfast would be brought to her. She would read reports while she ate her poached eggs and toast and then wait somewhat patiently for her bleary-eyed personnel to shuffle in the door seconds before their meeting would begin.