REMI'S POV
The butler opened the door before we reached it.
"Mr. Wolfe. Miss Cole. Mrs. Wolfe is in the drawing room."
The entrance hall was the kind of space that had been arranged over generations rather than decorated — oil paintings that looked like they'd been hanging in exactly these spots since before anyone in this family had been born, marble floors worn to a particular smoothness in the center where the foot traffic went, a chandelier that cast warm light over all of it without trying to be the point.
Dax moved through it without looking at any of it, which told me he'd been moving through it since he was a child and had long since stopped seeing it. I looked at everything, quickly, filing it away.
The drawing room was through the second door on the left.
Eleanor Wolfe sat
