The halls stretched wide and imposing, lined in parts with soft brocade carpets that muted every step, while other sections gleamed with polished marble. Pillars rose tall, their surfaces carved with intricate patterns that spoke of painstaking craftsmanship, and above them, ceilings unfurled into sweeping murals, scenes painted with the same grandeur found in ancient castles and old-world châteaux.

But what caught her attention most were the carpets.

Long, winding stretches of them ran through the corridors, rich in color and detail, their patterns unmistakably Persian in origin. Ashley recognized them, or rather, she recognized what they represented. Even a smaller piece of such craftsmanship had once sold for tens of millions. And here, they weren’t displayed as rare treasures. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

They were used.

Laid out across the entire hallways as though they were nothing more than ordinary fixtures. The sheer scale of it was difficult to comprehend. How long had it taken to weave something like this? How much had it cost to acquire, not just one, but this entire stretch?

Ashley’s eyes practically sparkled as she took in her surroundings. Along the hallway alone, she spotted paintings that could easily be worth hundreds of millions, displayed openly where anyone passing by could admire them.

They weren’t locked away behind glass or kept in a private gallery, just... hung there, as if they were ordinary decorations. For a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder.

’Weren’t they worried about theft?’

But the thought quickly felt unnecessary.

Of course they weren’t.

If anything, this was only a fraction of what they owned. Somewhere deeper within the palace, there would undoubtedly be a proper gallery, a private collection, perhaps even a museum of their own, housing pieces of even greater value.

What lined the walls here were simply the ones that didn’t make the cut for that level of exclusivity.

And that realization alone was staggering.

As her short journey from the dining hall to the living room continued, Ashley found herself surrounded by one priceless piece after another, such as paintings, ornate vases, and sculptures carved with exquisite detail. Each one carried history, value, and prestige. It was overwhelming in the most surreal way.

At this point, her eyes might as well have been gleaming with nothing but dollar signs.

"Young Lady, would you prefer to see your room first, or shall we go out to shop?" Aunt Lavinia asked gently, a note of concern threading through her voice. "If you’re feeling tired, we can simply call for the designers and seamstresses to come here. They can present their catalogues and take your measurements, so you won’t need to go out at all."

The offer made perfect sense to Ashley, and, in that moment, she understood something else as well. Aunt Lavinia’s earlier agreement to go shopping hadn’t truly been about the outing.

It had been a quiet, deliberate way to remove her from the tense situation at the dining table, sparing her from being caught between Ophelia and the others.

In truth, with the Gildenvale family’s status, "shopping" in the conventional sense wasn’t even necessary.

They didn’t rely on well-known luxury brands, no Céline, no Louis Vuitton, no Prada, or the other well-known brands.

Those names, while prestigious to the public, were almost irrelevant at this level. Instead, everything was commissioned. Private tailors, exclusive ateliers, master seamstresses who worked only for a select few.

Every piece was made to measure, designed from scratch, crafted with the finest materials available, fabrics chosen not for labels, but for quality that spoke for itself.

There were no logos, no obvious branding.

And yet, that absence carried more weight than any name ever could.

Because this was a different kind of wealth. Not the kind that needed to be announced, displayed, or proven. Those who wore such pieces didn’t need recognition from the masses; their names already circulated within the highest circles, their influence etched into places where reputation mattered far more than labels.

What they wore wasn’t meant to impress strangers.

They themselves were the statement.

Even understanding all that, Ashley still felt her heart swell to the point of bursting. Every step through the palace seemed to redefine what "wealth" meant, layering revelation upon revelation until it became almost overwhelming. It wasn’t just the scale of it, it was how effortlessly it existed, how naturally it surrounded her, as though this had always been her world.

She needed a moment to breathe.

"Let’s go out shopping," she said after a pause, her voice steadier than she felt. "It might help me unwind a little. We can call the seamstresses later to take my measurements for the next set of clothes... but for now, I’ll need something ready-made."

Aunt Lavinia inclined her head in agreement, clearly of the same mind. That had been her intention from the start. The outing wasn’t about indulgence; it was about practicality. A few sets of clothes, some necessities, and things Ashley could use immediately.

The bespoke pieces could come later.

"Very well. I’ll have the driver prepare the car," Aunt Lavinia said, already signaling discreetly to a nearby household staff. Then she glanced back at Ashley, her tone softening with concern. "But are you certain you wouldn’t prefer to rest first? You’ve had quite a long journey."

Ashley shook her head lightly. "I’m not that tired," she replied, her voice calm, almost casual. "I’d like to see more of the city... get familiar with it."

It sounded like a simple reason, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

In reality, she needed space. Time to process everything she had just seen, everything she had just learned. Even for someone who had grown up surrounded by luxury, this was something else entirely, overwhelming in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

And right now, stepping outside, putting distance between herself and all of it, felt like the only way to steady her thoughts.

"Very well. I’ve already had the driver called; he’ll bring the car around to the main entrance shortly. But the garage and staff quarters are some distance away, so it will take about ten minutes," Aunt Lavinia explained gently as she guided Ashley along. "You may as well rest in the living room while we wait."

Without pause, she steered the wheelchair into the adjoining space, where everything had already been prepared. A tray of neatly arranged snacks rested on the table, and a teapot still released soft curls of steam.

A maid stood nearby, pouring a fresh cup with quiet efficiency before setting it carefully within Ashley’s reach.

"Here," Aunt Lavinia said, her tone softening into an elderly tone. "Have some tea. It’s from a private orchard; only a few batches are produced each year. It helps with blood circulation and eases tension in the body."

Her smile held none of the earlier formality, the sternness replaced by a warmth that felt almost familial, as though she were not merely attending to Ashley, but looking after her.

"Okay..." Ashley replied with a soft, genuine smile as she accepted the cup. The moment the tea touched her lips, she paused, surprised by its delicate balance. There was a gentle sweetness to it, layered with a rich, lingering aroma that wasn’t bitter in the slightest.

Subtle floral notes unfolded with each sip, light and soothing, and somewhere beneath it all was a faint hint of mint that left a cool freshness on her tongue.

She found herself savoring it.

With every slow sip, the tightness in her chest eased, her breathing growing steadier and lighter. The tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying began to slip away, and she gradually relaxed into the back of her wheelchair. Letting out a quiet breath, she closed her eyes for a moment, simply allowing herself to enjoy the calm the tea brought with it.

Without realizing it, ten minutes had already slipped by. The warmth of the tea lingered in her system, soothing her to the point that she had nearly drifted off right there in her seat.

By the time she opened her eyes fully, the exhaustion that had weighed on her earlier had faded, leaving her feeling unexpectedly refreshed. She glanced at Aunt Lavinia, gratitude clear in her expression, and was met with a gentle, knowing smile in return.

Soon after, Aunt Lavinia guided her toward the entrance.

Outside, a small group of bodyguards stood ready alongside the waiting driver. One of them stepped forward with quiet professionalism. "Young Lady, may I carry you to the car?"

Ashley hesitated for a brief moment, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face. It wasn’t the offer itself that made her feel uncomfortable, but the reminder of her current limitations.

The step at the entrance made it impossible for her wheelchair to pass through without assistance, leaving her little room to refuse. Still, the thought of always relying on others unsettled her.

She lifted her gaze to Aunt Lavinia instead. "Aunt Lavinia... could you help me find a cane later? Something I can use to stand, even just occasionally."

Seeing Aunt Lavinia nod in agreement eased the discomfort in her chest. With that small reassurance, Ashley allowed the bodyguard to lift her carefully, steady and respectful, before carrying her down to the waiting car below.