"It’s called Maximalism , darling," Bella said, sweeping into the room in a gown that almost matched the new gilded swan statues. "Why have one gold-trimmed side table when you can have three layered on top of each other?"

Mortimer sighed, leaning back into a velvet sofa that felt like a cloud. "I suppose," he admitted, looking at his reflection in a shiny chrome bust, "there is something to be said for living life to the absolute max."

"What does that say?" Cassandra asked, eyeing the glowing pink bird skeptically.

She pointed to the new wallpaper—a dizzying array of geometric shapes that seemed to move if you stared at them too long. "This wall says we are bold. This leopard-print armchair says we are fierce. And that oversized neon sign in the shape of a flamingo?"

Mortimer peered over his book, blinking at a that featured more gold leaf than the Landgraab’s entire estate. "It’s a bit... loud, isn't it?"