I stood before the imposing gates of the Ashworth estate, my heart racing despite my outwardly calm demeanor. Eamon fidgeted nervously beside me, clearly intimidated by the grand stone walls stretching endlessly in both directions.
"I've heard stories about this place," he whispered, "but seeing it in person is something else entirely."
I nodded, my eyes fixed on the massive iron gates. "The Ashworth family doesn't do anything small."
Minutes stretched like hours as we waited. The guards maintained their rigid posture, casting occasional suspicious glances our way. I was about to approach them again when a commotion erupted from inside the gates.
"Where is he? Is he really here?" A familiar voice floated over the walls, making my heart leap.
Suddenly, the gates swung open. There she stood – Isabelle Ashworth, breathtaking as ever, her eyes wide with disbelief and joy.
"Liam!" she cried, rushing forward without a care for dignity or protocol.
