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As Mr. Lay began to tell the story, his mind drifted back to the time when lived at Evermoon, when everything was so much busier, yet more relaxing at the same time.

— ✦ —

Mr. Lay’s father was a successful businessman—one of those rare men who turned every venture into gold. By the time Mr. Lay was born in 1930, the Lay family name was already synonymous with wealth and prestige. He grew up in Evermoon, the family’s grand villa perched on the edge of a sprawling hillside, overlooking the quiet town below.

The villa was a kingdom of its own. Mr. Lay’s father had named the villa Evermoon when he built it, back when nothing surrounded the estate but wild, rolling hills and untouched meadows. In time, as people settled nearby and small roads turned into streets, a town quietly grew around the estate. Out of respect, or perhaps aspiration - they named the town after the grand villa that had stood there first. And so, Evermoon became not only a home, but a place on the map. The villa itself boasted over fifty rooms, each adorned with imported marble floors and high arching ceilings painted with delicate frescoes. A long, winding driveway lined with cypress trees led to an iron gate, beyond which lay an expansive garden of roses, orchids, and rare blooms tended by a team of ten full-time gardeners. There were staff for every need: a butler who had served the family for three generations, five chefs specializing in European and local cuisines, maids to keep the mansion spotless, and a chauffeur who knew every twist of the countryside roads.

As a boy, Mr. Lay would wander the garden’s labyrinth paths, chasing dragonflies past marble fountains and old stone benches shaded by willows. Life at Evermoon was a portrait of luxury and order, wrapped in gentle rhythms of wealth and comfort.

When his parents passed away—his mother first, then his father shortly after. Mr. Lay inherited the villa and the sprawling businesses tied to it. It was a heavy mantle, but he carried it well. In 1960, he married a woman he loved dearly, and in that same blessed year, their daughter Amelia was born. With her arrival, Evermoon felt fuller than ever: her laughter echoed through the halls, her tiny feet pattered on the mosaic floors, her presence weaving new joy into the old bones of the house.