AMELIA

I wasn't sure what I expected, but a small two story house that seemed to be a few years old wasn't it. I half expected Vincent's home to be as extravagant as the mansion he lived in.

The man was loaded.

As we approached the simple wooden door in front of us, I wiped my clammy palms against the side of my dress a few times.

Vincent knocked on the front door without hesitation, and I held my breath, clutching the gift for his mother tightly. The door swung open, revealing a petite woman that seemed to be in her early fifties with a beautiful face that bore a striking resemblance to Vincent. It was like looking at the female, older version of Vincent.

Her eyes lit up when she saw us, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"You must be Amelia," she exclaimed with a wide grin, her gaze merely brushing with her son's. "Come in, come in!” she gestured us in.

Then she turned to look at Vincent with a glare, “Vincent, you're late as usual," she swatted his arm making him flinch and