Three large suitcases were already sitting on the gravel near the gatehouse.

“Your personal items have been moved to the gates, as promised,” Mr. Han told them.

“This is illegal,” Daniel muttered, though his voice lacked any real conviction.

He looked back at the grand facade of the resort, the warm light glowing from the windows.

He had spent years trying to secure a place here, never knowing I owned the land beneath his feet.

“Move along, please,” the guard said, guiding them down the stone steps.

The gravel crunched loudly under their shoes as they began the long walk.

Vivian struggled to walk on the wet stone in her thin-soled heels.

She slipped once, her knee buckling, and Daniel had to catch her arm to keep her from falling.

They looked small and fragile against the vast darkness of the coastal road.

I stood on the covered portico, watching their slow progress down the driveway.

Mr. Han stood beside me, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Would you like me to call a taxi for them, Mrs. Arden?” he asked.