The mansion stood at the end of a long private drive, its tall iron gates flanked by stone pillars and cameras that never stopped turning. Security lights cut through the evening darkness, washing the grounds in pale white. Guards moved along the perimeter in steady rotations, some stationed near the entrance while others patrolled the outer walls.
No one could approach the place unnoticed.
Inside, the quiet halls held the faint scent of polish and expensive wood. One of the guards walked quickly through the corridor leading to the upper floor, his boots striking softly against the marble. He stopped before the largest door at the end of the hall and knocked twice.
A voice answered from inside.
"Come in."
The guard pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was wide and bright, French windows stretching along one wall. Soft evening light spilled across the floor and over a large canvas resting on a wooden stand.
A man stood before it, painting.
