52
Vince
I sat on the edge of the couch, laptop open, listings and blueprints spread across my screen like a war map. The penthouse behind me felt wrong.
I wasn’t bringing my wife back here after the island.
She needed a palace. Something that saidminewithout feeling like punishment.
A new listing loaded.
West Ridge. High above Villain, the streets where old money, and no one looked up unless they had a reason.
Stone façade. Tall arched windows. Iron balconies tangled with ivy. A long, curving drive through cypress that ended in double doors big enough to swallow a dynasty.
It looked built for kings.
I wanted it for a girl who watched shows in bed and pretended she didn’t need anyone.
The grounds were wide. High walls buried under green.
A central courtyard with a fountain I’d rip out and replace with water she could listen to when her head went loud.
Inside, the foyer opened into a cathedral space. Marble tempered by carved wood instead of the glossy developer bullshit I hated.
Dining room had enough bones to host sovereign and make them remember whose house they were in.
The master wing sat apart from everything else, reachable by a corridor that could be locked down in seconds. Security mattered with our last name.
Two offices, I marked them automatically,His and Hers.She built beside me.
The dressing room was big enough for the wardrobe she pretended she didn’t deserve and still had room for a chair where I’d sit while she talked through her day.
Off the main hall, a raw theatre space waited. Unfinished. I could already see it done.
The backyard, glass-walled pool house facing gardens. Easy to tint the glass and to hide a panic button exactly where her hand would land when she got anxious.
I added a note about adding a spa house.
I scrolled up for lower level specs.
Underground garage. Fourteen-car capacity. Private elevator. Vault poured in concrete, a good start. I re-labeled it in my head.
Planning notes mentionedpossiblehelipad on the west terrace. Possible meant yes, with the right leverage.
I saw the jet immediately.
Her own plane with her name on the tail if she wanted it. Crew loyal to her first, then me. Flight plans she signed, not some dynasty father who thought daughters were inventory.
The thought calmed something vicious in my chest.
Power disguised as luxury. That was the language my girl deserved.
By the time the hour rolled over past midnight, this wasn’t a listing. It was a blueprint.
She should’ve been here, beside me, helping design it.
Instead I had a glass of water I hadn’t touched and too much Codex in my head.
