Celeste's house stood majestically amidst spacious grounds, surrounded by ancient trees and meticulously tended gardens, illuminated by tall street lamps reminiscent of a 19th-century London park.
Above all, it was a mansion that commanded respect, a house that defied time with its elegant architecture. The driveway, flanked by bushes and brightly colored flowers, led to imposing double doors of noble wood. Upon crossing the threshold, one was greeted by a spacious and luxurious foyer, with polished marble floors and a majestic spiral staircase gracefully ascending to the second floor.
"Do you want to go up, daughter?" Celeste offered me.
I wanted to stop her, tell her she still didn't have the right to call me that, but perhaps it was too late. I had already called her "mom" as a resul
