The drive to the Cumberland Avenue estate was quiet, the windshield wipers clacking a steady rhythm against the glass.

The grand gates of the estate loomed in the gray mist, standing open.

The gravel driveway was wet, the tires of Daniel’s car crunching softly as we approached the house.

It was a massive stone structure, built by my ancestors, now empty of the people who had tried to steal it from me.

Daniel parked the car near the front steps.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the brass key to the front door.

My hand was steady now.

“Are you ready?” Daniel asked, turning off the engine.

“Yes,” I said.

We got out of the car and walked up the stone steps.

I inserted the key into the heavy oak door and turned it.

The lock clicked open with a satisfying, heavy sound.

I pushed the door open, stepping into the grand foyer.

The house was dark, the air smelling of old wood, polish, and dust.

Suddenly, a soft light flared in the hallway at the top of the stairs.