Sunlight streamed into the vast garage, casting long shadows over the gleaming collection of sports cars. Cathleen's fingers tightened around the knob of her walking stick as she edged forward, a calculated motion that bore the weight of her newfound independence. The hunger for fresh air and the bustle of the city beyond these walls gnawed at her insides. She hadn't savored the aroma of a restaurant or the murmur of a crowd in what felt like an eternity.
Xavier's fleet sparkled under the fluorescent lights, each car a testament to his cold precision and love for speed—a stark contrast to the slow, deliberate pace Cathleen now embraced. Her gaze drifted toward the corner, where dust and neglect cloaked the sharp lines of a G-wagon. It stood like a relic, untouched and unappreciated.
She
