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There was no better morning than this.
The sky was clear, the estate was peaceful, and for once, I felt like a woman at the peak of her life.
Dressed in my black track pants and a sports bra, I jogged across the lush green lawn, feeling the warm breeze kiss my skin.
Turning 40 soon? Please.
My body was sculpted to perfection—toned, lean, absolutely gorgeous.
The system had helped me by a stretch, and I made sure every single soul in the estate noticed.
And beside me, my pride and joy, my son Lucas, walked with his usual air of casual indifference.
He had grown a lot over the past few months—taller, sharper, a little more in control of himself.
His messy black hair had gotten even messier, and his deep violet eyes carried the kind of intensity that would intimidate most people.
Unfortunately, Lucas was still Lucas. Which meant he still had the mind-blowing talent of saying the worst possible things at the worst possible times.
