2025-08-26 16:42:10The cold from the cellar floor had crept up Lana’s spine, curling around her ribs like frost.
She sat with her back against the damp stone wall, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. The broken mirror lay shattered across the chamber, its shards glittering in the beam of her fallen flashlight like bits of a memory she couldn’t piece back together. Somewhere above her, the house groaned. Then — footsteps. She stiffened. A faint click. The sound of something mechanical shifting in the wall. The door creaked open. Light flooded the chamber, blinding after so much darkness. A figure appeared at the top of the stairs, haloed in dim gold. Grey. His eyes locked onto her — wide, searching, then narrowing with a sharp, familiar blend of concern and frustration. “Lana,” he said, voice low and tight. “Why would you come down here alone?” She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. He moved down the steps, two at a time, crouching beside her without hesitation. “Are you hurt?” His hand reached toward her face, hesitated, then touched her cheek carefully, brushing away a smear of dust. “You’re freezing.” “I was locked in,” she said, her voice trembling. “Someone was here. I heard them.” Grey’s hand tensed against her jaw. “Who?” “I don’t know. I saw… I saw something in the mirror. A girl. Me. Or someone who looked like me. She said things. Things I shouldn’t remember.” She expected him to dismiss it. To say she was imagining things. But he didn’t. Instead, he lowered his hand, let it slide down to her arm — warm against her skin. “I believe you,” he said quietly. She looked up sharply. “You do?” “I’ve seen too much in this house not to.” They stared at each other, the air between them no longer cold. No longer neutral. “I thought I was losing my mind,” she whispered. “You’re not,” he said. “They want you to think that. Whoever’s pulling the strings here — they’ve made an art out of erasing people.” Lana looked down at the glass scattered across the floor. “She said there’s a second birth record.” Grey went still. Then he slowly sat beside her, letting his back rest against the stone wall, their shoulders nearly touching. “I always wondered,” he said after a long moment. “Why I felt drawn to you. From the first time I saw your face… something clicked. Like hearing a song you forgot you loved.” She smiled faintly. “You were distant. Cold.” “I had to be,” he said, glancing over at her. “If I let myself feel anything, I might have remembered too much.” She turned her head toward him. “And now?” “I’m remembering.” The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was weighted. His fingers brushed hers — not by accident. She didn’t pull away. Neither did he. “You’re not like I thought you’d be,” she said softly. “You’re everything I didn’t expect,” he replied. Lana swallowed. “If the truth is as bad as it feels… if we’re connected somehow, by blood or fate or something else entirely…” Grey leaned toward her, his voice dropping. “Then I’ll find out. I’ll fix it. I don’t care what they buried. I care about you.” The words hit harder than anything she’d expected. Not sweet. Not romantic in the traditional sense. But real. Raw. And terrifying. Because she wanted to believe him. He turned toward her slowly, his face only inches from hers now. Her breath hitched. And for a moment, they weren’t heirs. Or ghosts. Or suspects. Just two people caught in the same storm. His hand lifted to her cheek again, thumb brushing just beneath her eye. She didn’t stop him. Their lips almost met— —but he paused, eyes flicking to hers, waiting for something unspoken. She hesitated. Then whispered, “I’m scared.” His voice broke around the edges. “So am I.” And that was the closest they came to a kiss. Not because of fear. Because it mattered too much. Grey rose first, helping her to her feet. His hand lingered around hers longer than necessary. “You said there’s a second birth record,” he said, slipping back into himself. “I know where it might be. But we can’t go in daylight. My uncle monitors the library wing.” “You mean the wing with the sealed filing room?” He gave her a look. “You’ve really been busy.” “I don’t like being lied to,” she replied. A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth — something almost fond. “Then we’re on the same side.” As they left the cellar together, Lana didn’t look back at the mirror. But she felt it watching. And for the first time since arriving at the estate, she realized she no longer wanted to run. She wanted answers. And him. Maybe both would destroy her. But she’d never felt more alive.
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Chapter Nineteen : The House That Shouldn’t Breathe
The morning came with a sky the color of pewter. The air was heavy, not with rain, but with the strange kind of stillness that makes the world feel as though it’s holding its breath.Lana stood at the edge of the gravel drive, the estate behind her, a small travel satchel clutched in one hand. Grey was already at the motorcar, inspecting the straps that held their supplies. His movements were deliberate, his expression unreadable.“You’re sure we can’t wait another day?” she asked, pulling her coat tighter against the chill.His glance was brief but decisive. “Every day we wait is another day someone else might find what we’re looking for.”She almost said, And another day I could pretend this wasn’t happening. But instead, she stepped into the passenger seat.The road to Willowmarch was long and uneven, flanked by thick woods that grew denser the farther they drove. The bare branches seemed to claw at the sky, and every now and then the shadow of a crow passed over the windshield.“H
Chapter Eighteen – Shadows in the Silver
The rain had stopped by evening, leaving the Thompson estate wrapped in a damp hush. The air smelled faintly of moss and wet stone, and the last of the storm clouds dragged themselves away across a bruised sky. In the library, firelight cast a low amber glow over the walls, where the leather-bound books stood in regimented silence.Lana sat on the edge of the chaise, her knees drawn slightly together, fingers curled around the delicate stem of a wineglass she’d barely touched. Across from her, Grey leaned against the mantel, the flames painting his profile in shifting light. Between them, resting on the low table, lay the locket.She hadn’t expected him to bring it out again. Since finding it that morning, he had kept it close, as though the small tarnished thing could burn him if left unattended.“It’s old,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Older than you, older than me… but it feels alive somehow.”Grey’s gaze didn’t leave the locket. “It was my mother’s. She never spoke much ab
Chapter Seventeen : Shadows Between Us
The rain had passed in the night, leaving the Thompson estate washed in a pale, reluctant dawn. Mist curled low over the lawns, clinging to the edges of the hedgerows like it feared to let go. Somewhere beyond the eastern wing, the river whispered faintly, its steady rhythm a contrast to the taut silence between them.Lana had been up before sunrise. She told herself it was the damp air that kept her from sleeping, but in truth, it was the weight of unspoken thoughts. The locket, and what it might mean, still pulsed at the edges of her mind — but she had resolved not to think about it. Not now. Not yet. She needed a day where the past didn’t have its claws in her.Grey was already in the breakfast room when she arrived, his posture sharp even in casual clothes. A silver coffee pot steamed on the table between them. He didn’t look up immediately; instead, he tapped the edge of his cup, the sound precise, deliberate.“You were awake early,” she said, settling opposite him.His gaze flic
Chapter Sixteen – Echoes in the Stillness
The first light of morning spilled through the heavy velvet curtains, a pale gold that softened the cold edges of the Thompson estate. Outside, the grounds were still slick with last night’s rain, the air sharp and clean, as though the storm had scoured away every trace of dust and sound.Lana stood by the tall window, her hands cupped around the porcelain warmth of her tea. She could still smell the faint trace of woodsmoke on her clothes from the cabin — that single, flickering fire they had kept through the long hours of thunder and wind. It was strange, how quickly the world could change. One night of isolation, of whispered words and careful silences, and now they were back inside walls lined with chandeliers and old oil paintings that seemed to watch her every move.She heard the faint creak of the door behind her and didn’t need to turn to know it was Grey. There was something distinct about his presence — not just the sound of his footsteps, but the way the air seemed to tight
Chapter Fifteen: Storms
The storm had only deepened through the night. Rain lashed against the warped cabin walls in relentless sheets, each gust of wind making the timbers groan. Inside, the air smelled faintly of damp wood and smoke from the struggling fire in the small stone hearth.Lana sat on the low bench beside it, rubbing her chilled hands together. Her damp skirt clung to her knees, the hem heavy from the downpour. Grey stood near the doorway, his shoulders filling the space as he looked out into the blackness beyond the warped frame. The light from the hearth cast his profile in bronze and shadow.“You’re shivering,” he said, his voice low but cutting through the storm.“I’m fine,” she lied, though her fingers trembled.He crossed the small room, the floorboards creaking under his weight, and shrugged off his heavy coat. “You’ll wear this,” he said, draping it over her shoulders before she could protest. It was warm, smelling faintly of cedar and something darker—him. She swallowed hard, feeling th
Chapter Fourteen: The Letter
The name hit Grey like a blow to the ribs.His mother had been dead for over a decade. He’d stood over her casket, felt the cold finality of the moment. So either this was an elaborate game, or someone had just detonated the past in his face.The man didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him as if he already belonged in the room. His shoes didn’t even squeak on the marble — expensive leather, broken in. Everything about him spoke of precision.“I was told,” the man said, “to deliver this directly into your hands. And to tell you — you’d know the truth when you read it.”Grey took the envelope but didn’t open it. His eyes stayed locked on the man. “And who told you that?”“I already answered that.” The stranger’s gaze flicked briefly toward Lana. “I wasn’t informed you’d have company.”Lana didn’t move from the doorway, but the weight of his look pressed on her like a hand on the back of her neck.“Maybe you should tell us your name,” she said
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