The night was thick, with prosperity everywhere.
On the precious land of Sycamore Central Road, a whole street belonged to the Prescott Family.
The Rolls-Royce slowly cruised by, and behind the wheel, Finn Prescott's hand rested on the steering wheel, casting a glance at the person in the back seat through the rearview mirror.
At this moment.
His sister was leaning back, quietly asleep, as if the bustling world outside the window had nothing to do with her.
Having grown up in the old alleys of Kystral, she probably didn't know the specifics of the family's assets, or in other words, she wasn't interested, being entirely devoted to traditional medicine.
The grandmother, hoping they would have more chances to connect, made sure after dinner that he would bring his sister back home.
Such efforts may not prove effective; after so many years, their relationship was not something that could be eased quickly.
