Philadelphia, Chestnut Hill.
A black Lincoln sedan slowly passed through the gates of Saint Claude Manor.
Elias Wayne sat in the back seat, squirming restlessly.
He tugged at his hopelessly loose tie, lowered the window, and greedily inhaled the damp air from outside.
"This place smells so damn good," Wayne muttered. "It's the smell of money. The kind of money that makes you jealous."
Leo sat beside him, staring out the window with a blank expression.
"When you see Saint Claude, try to talk as little as possible," Leo reminded him. "And especially, no swearing."
"Don't worry, Mr. Mayor," Wayne said with a grin. "I'm always polite to rich people."
The car stopped in front of a glass conservatory next to the main building.
A butler was already waiting at the door.
