The car finally rolled to a stop in front of a run-down bungalow.
The house looked as though a strong gust of wind could tear it apart.
Its corrugated roof was stained with years of rain and neglect. The faded exterior walls bore cracks that snaked across the surface like old scars. Even from the outside, one could tell the bungalow was tiny—two rooms at most.
Lionel stepped out of the vehicle and instinctively moved toward the rear passenger door, intending to open it for Lara.
Only to discover that she had already stepped out. Amelia followed behind her.
Lionel glanced at Lara one more time. His admiration of her grew a notch higher. What an independent woman.
The three of them stood before the property's rusted gate. At first glance, Lionel had thought the gate was painted brown. Upon closer inspection, he realized there was no paint at all.
The gate had simply rusted so badly that the entire metal frame had turned a dull reddish-brown.
