He had planned this exit strategy down to the last detail.

He knew that even if I caught him, he could drag the family legacy down with him.

The drive to the estate took fifteen minutes.

The coastal fog was rolling in, swallowing the streetlights one by one.

Cumberland Avenue was quiet, lined with old oaks that cast long, skeletal shadows across the pavement.

The family estate sat at the end of the long driveway, dark and imposing.

It was a Victorian-style house that had belonged to my family for three generations.

I slowed down as I approached the stone gates.

The gates were open.

They were always supposed to be closed after ten o’clock.

I turned off my headlights and coasted slowly down the gravel driveway.

The gravel crunched beneath my tires, the sound incredibly loud in the silence of the night.

I parked under the shadow of a large weeping willow near the edge of the property.

I stepped out of the car, shutting the door quietly.

The damp air clung to my skin, making me shiver.