Garden of Eden | The Royals

Twisted palace

The first time I saw the Royal mansion I was overwelmed. Actually, I don't know what I expected but this was insane to me. This was a palace!
Slowly our driver passed the front gates. Not only was this building huge, it was a masterpiece of western european architecture, with it's beatifully shaped columns, rounded staircases, extravagant doors and huge wooden windows. Those windows were something I was totaly amazed by. Back home in Paris we were living in the center of the city in a modern penthouse and our 'windows' were more like 'seethrough walls' from which I was able to admire the incredible architecture of Paris from afar.
Of course I had visited. Obviuosly I was perfectly educatetd and informed about the culture, but to live in something like that? I never experienced that. Well, until now. Our new house
– no, excuse me, our mansion –
was equally built as the Royal Palace.
Not as big and as fancy, but similar enough. I recognised that is the only type of houses here in Bayview.
I wonder if you'll be kicked out when you won't fit in?
Around the house was a huge yard, more like a park, it was so big.
I admired the perfect green lawn and the flowers that gave it a little colour, as we slowly passed it. The car stopped. My mother beside me straightened her flowery dress and held her nose high. She prepared herself for what was about to come. The shoulders of my father stiffened. He braced himself, too. The doors swung open on both sides of the car and our driver Henry helped me out, careful to not rumple my dress and make my enxit as graceful as possible. I thanked him, and without really noticing I, too, straightended myself and put on an indifferent face.
'You look beautiful, ma petit' my father adressed me.
I guess I did. The dress I was wearing was a deep mustard and at my torso it clung close to my body. Long sleves and a decent neckline made up for the fact that the hem of my dress ended mid thigh. The soft yellow material was covered in a thin, seethrough layer of mustard coloured tulle wich reachted down to the ground, so tecnically I was completely covered. The thing I liked most about the dress was the subtle flower pattern that was stitched into the tulle. This dress was the shit.
I would have thought it a bit too much for a simple garden party, but this was The Royal Garden Party. One of the most anticipated events of the year, besides the Met Gala and the Oscars.
It was the official event before the event.
The Atlantic Aviationts Fundraiser.
A gala held by Callum Royals family business to support public safety and technological progress in developing countries. But mainly it's an event where not only the most rich and successful families of America but the entire globe are invited, to renew old and make new connections, talk about contracts and future projects, praise their industries and businesses and present their sons and daughters to the society of the rich and famous. It might be to find a suitable partner for their loving child (or for their exclusive family), to enable the best connections, so their precious baby will make it in this world, or to just prepare them for the actuall bullshit that goes down in our perfect, perfect world.
Because if you haven't learned by now, everything beautiful here is poisinous. Always be careful what you touch.
I followed my mother and father up the front steps to the impressive double doors of this castle. They already stood open and happy music greeted us even before we entered the building I am too afraid to call a house.
Because the entrence hall on it's own was big enough and especially fancy enough to ever be entered by any normal human being.
It took all of my selfcontrol to not just stand there and gape at the stunning twin staircase that reaches from both sides of the hall to a beautiful balcony in the middle of the room. The railing was - as everything in this mansion, really! – astonishingly shaped and twisted. Below the balcony was a dark brown archway that led into a room wich from what I could see looked like a library/music room beacuse the walls were covered in books and in the center of the room stood a black grand. Behind it were more of those amazing windows and it seemed like this was the way to the actual garden of this 'garden party'.
'Welcome!'
I shifted my interested gaze towards the man in a grey tuxedo standing infront of my father. The man I knew to be Callum Royal.
My fathers facial features visibly hardened and my mothers smile was forced.
What I've learned about business so far: just beacuse you are partners, doesn't mean you are friends.
In fact, my father positively dispised Mr. Royal. They were the best of partners, business wise unbeatable, but besides that? Not so much.
'Callum, good to see you' was my fathers response to the polite greeting. He shook Mr. Royals hand, but just as long as was polite. He released it as soon as possible.
'Good to see you, Jean-Luc. Anabelle, you look amazing.' His eyes focused on my mother and they too shook hands. My mother smiled even more polite and even more forced. It was uncomfortable to watch but my face stayed indifferent.
'I hear you left Paris and moved to Bayview? That's good news.' Royal engulfed in the necessary amount of small-talk required. He did not seem to enjoy it. Neither did my parents. 'Anabelle and our daughter, yes. I won't be here much. The capital of our company is Paris. I'll travel back and forth.' Icy. The only word to discribe this situation.
'How unfortunate' The lie was obvious on Royals face. 'But we all have our sacrafices to do, don't we?'
For the first time his look landed upon me.
'Raina. How rude of me. Lovely to see you again.' he reached for my hand.
I glanced at my mother for permission before I shook it.
'Talk on the street is you are accepted into Columbia. Your parents must be really proud.'
'Thank you Mr. Royal.'
'I guess you are willing to follow your parents footsteps and take part in your families business?'
Another glance towards my parents. 'Yes, I will start next semester in international business law.'
'Like father like daughter, huh?'
My father owns the most successful and prestige lawfirm in europe.
'It's all just about connections'
He smiles wickedly and glances at my parents, referring to their more than beneficial marriage. My mother is, unlike my father, not french but amarican. Her maiden name is Wightwood, which makes her the daughter of Paul Wightwood, the owner of 'Wightwood International', a very succesfull bank. The marriage of my parents ensured the expansion of my grandfathers company to europe and made him player in the international financial market. It also supported the lawfirm of my dad, who is now an international businessman around the world.
'I believe you are not to judge other peoples marriage, right Royal?'
That was a low blow.
Even for my father. Royals wife was dead, because of complicated circumstances. The story was a scandal that even reached europes daily news.
'I guess.' His face was stern.
'I have other guests to welcome. We will catch up later.' Royal turned around and without another glance back he stalked off to a family with three little daughters.