"You're still alive..." Mrs. Gable whispered, her eyes fixed on the locket around Harry's neck.The kitchen door of the old mansion was barely ajar. The air inside was stuffy, smelling of dried lavender and dust. Harry stood stiffly in the doorway, suppressing the wild urge to barge in."I just want to know what happened to my father," he said softly, but his voice was loud with determination.Mrs. Gable stared at him for a long time, then quickly pulled him inside. The door was locked three times.Harry had left Arthur's warehouse earlier that morning without looking back. Guilt haunted him, but the names Aubrey Family, Black Hand, and Marcus were stronger than everything else.He had searched for clues all day. He listened to whispers from dockworkers, followed shadows, until he finally stood before the old Victorian mansion, the childhood home he didn't remember. The paint was peeling, the gate rusted. It was grand, yet dead.This is where everything began.And perhaps, this is whe