The deep, guttural purr of the McLaren P1's twin-turbo V8 echoed softly against the granite facade of the Meridian Crown as the valet parking supervisor carefully guided the volcano-orange hypercar to a stop right at the curb. He stepped out of the vehicle with the utmost reverence, using both hands to present the carbon-fiber key fob directly to Aliya, his posture bent in a deep, ninety-degree bow.
"Everything is pristine, Miss Rivers," the supervisor murmured, his voice trembling slightly with lingering awe. "Drive safely."
Aliya took the fob with a casual nod. Beside her, Fancy slipped into the passenger seat, smoothing down the satin fabric of her gown as she looked back toward the glittering entrance.
