I walked past him, heading back toward the stairs with a cold determination in my chest.

When we reached the ground floor, we found Antoinette standing by the fireplace in the drawing room, staring at the embers.

Conrad was there too, sitting in his leather armchair with a tablet in his hand, his face illuminated by the blue glare of the screen.

The heavy drapes were drawn tight against the storm outside, but the room felt freezing.

“What is going on here?” Grant asked, looking between his mother and father. “Why are the gates open?”

Conrad did not look up from his tablet.

“The security team quit an hour ago,” Conrad said, his voice dangerously low. “They realized their paychecks might not clear next week.”

Grant laughed, a nervous, high-pitched sound that died quickly in the quiet room.

“What do you mean, not clear?” Grant asked. “That’s impossible.”

Antoinette set her glass down on the side table with a sharp clink.

“Turn on the television, Grant,” she said softly.

Grant reached for the remote on the mantle and clicked the power button.