Stephen adjusted the cuff of his shirt as the car rolled through the wrought-iron gates of the estate. The mansion loomed ahead, its grandeur more ostentatious than impressive. He'd been here before, to places like this, with men like this. Politicians always wanted to display their wealth, their stability, as though it added weight to their words. It didn't.

Beside him, his wife shifted slightly, smoothing the fabric of her dress as she gazed out the window. She always carried herself with grace, poised and polished, the perfect image of a politician's spouse. Stephen didn't glance at her. He knew her expression would be as practiced as his own, an unspoken agreement to endure these charades as a team.

This weekend was supposed to be a gesture of goodwill, an informal way to solidify the deal he and Victor—his counterpart in Parliament—had been inching toward for months. Stephen hated these things: the staged family settings, the polite laughter, the relentless flattery. He had prepared himself for hours of dull conversation and meaningless gestures.

The car came to a halt, and Stephen stepped out, greeted immediately by Victor's booming voice. "Stephen! Good to see you, my friend." The handshake was firm, deliberate, accompanied by a wide smile that didn't reach Victor's eyes.

Stephen's wife stepped forward, offering Victor a warm smile and a perfectly rehearsed greeting. "It's wonderful to finally visit. Stephen's spoken highly of your home."

Victor grinned, gesturing for them both to follow him inside. The vast entry hall, its marble floors gleaming under a massive chandelier, smelled faintly of lavender and money.