Victoria’s POVThe champagne tasted like lies.I stood by the window, watching snow fall on the gardens where Elias used to hide from our mother's piano lessons. Twenty years gone, and I could still hear him laughing behind the hedges. Still see his grey eyes peeking through the leaves."Victoria, darling, you look pale." Mother appeared at my elbow, her perfume choking me. "Are you feeling well?"I wasn't. I hadn't felt well since Father announced this ridiculous party. Sixty years old, he said. Time to celebrate. Time to show everyone the Ashbourne family still mattered.Time to pretend we weren't monsters."I'm fine," I lied. The same lie I'd been telling for twenty years.The ballroom glittered with people I didn't care about. Business partners. Politicians. Old money and new money, all mixing together like oil and water. Father held court by the fireplace, his silver hair catching the light. He looked distinguished. Powerful. Not like a man who murdered his own son.Thomas touche

Victoria’s POVDr. Whitmore arrived that afternoon.I watched from the upstairs window as his car pulled up the long driveway. He was old now, his back bent with age and maybe guilt. He'd been our family physician for forty years. He'd signed Elias's death certificate without an autopsy. He'd helped bury our secret.Now he was here to face it.Mother had called him in a panic after breakfast. She needed someone who knew. Someone who understood what we'd done. I wondered if she realized she was just making everything worse.I found them in Father's study. Whitmore sat in a chair by the fire, his hands gripping a glass of whiskey. He drained it in one swallow."Where is he?" Whitmore asked."Walking the grounds," Thomas said. He stood by the window, watching the gardens. "He does that. Just walks around like he owns the place.""Because he does," I said from the doorway. Everyone turned to look at me. "This was his home. Before we took it from him."Father's face darkened. "Victoria, no

Victoria's POVI didn't tell anyone about the chapel. What would I say? That the ghost of our murdered brother showed me where we killed him? That he promised to make us suffer?They already knew. They just didn't want to admit it.Breakfast the next morning was a silent affair. Mother didn't eat. She just pushed food around her plate with shaking hands. Father pretended to read the newspaper. Thomas typed on his phone, trying to maintain some illusion of normalcy.The stranger didn't join us. I didn't know where he was, but I felt him. Like a weight pressing down on the house."We need to leave," I said finally.Father looked up. "Excuse me?""We need to get out of this house. Go somewhere he can't follow.""And look like we're running away? Absolutely not. The Ashbourne family doesn't run.""The Ashbourne family murders children," I snapped. "I think our reputation can handle a little cowardice."Thomas slammed his phone down. "Enough, Victoria. You're not helping.""I'm not trying

Victoria's POVThey moved Thomas's body to the east wing with Whitmore.Two corpses in three days. Father called it a gas leak. Carbon monoxide poisoning. He'd already contacted someone to forge the death certificates, to make it all look normal and explainable.Even now, facing supernatural vengeance, he was trying to protect the family reputation.I watched them carry Thomas up the stairs. His burned body wrapped in white sheets. The smell followed them, acrid and wrong. It would never leave this house. None of us would.Father locked himself in his study afterward. I heard him on the phone, making calls. His voice was sharp, commanding. He was trying to regain control the only way he knew how.Through money and power.I went to my mother's room. She sat by the window, staring at nothing. The ritual book lay open on her lap."There has to be something," she muttered. "Some way to break it. Some counter-spell.""Mother, stop. It's over."She looked at me with wild eyes. "It's not ove

Victoria's POV I didn't know where to go after I left the manor.My car sat in the driveway, covered in snow. I'd barely driven it in years. The Ashbournes didn't leave the estate much. We kept our sins close, hidden behind iron gates and old money.I drove without direction. Just away. Away from the house where my brother burned. Away from the bodies in the east wing. Away from Mother sitting on the stairs with her white hair and aged face.The village was small, unchanged since childhood. The same shops, the same church, the same people who looked at Ashbournes with a mixture of respect and fear. They knew something was wrong with our family. They'd always known.I stopped at a small hotel on the edge of town. The kind of place with thin walls and weak coffee. The clerk looked at me strangely when I checked in. I must have looked terrible. Hair wild, clothes rumpled, eyes red from crying."Just one night?" he asked."I don't know yet."He handed me a key. Room twelve, second floor.