We stepped through the doorway, leaving the bright, hostile drawing room behind.

Matteo closed the heavy oak door behind us, turning the brass key in the lock with a sharp click.

The room was dark, lit only by the embers of the dying fireplace.

Outside, the rain began to pour in earnest, drumming against the leaded glass windows.

My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“Are you alright?” Matteo whispered, his hand still on the key.

“I am now,” I said, though my hands were shaking.

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter from my mother.

The paper felt thick and heavy in the dim light.

“We need to read this,” I said, looking at the wax seal.

“Before they find a way through that door.”

“Let me get a lamp,” Matteo said, stepping toward the desk.

Just as his hand reached the brass switch, a loud thud echoed from the other side of the door.

“Vivian!” Harrison’s voice was muffled but furious.

“Open this door right now.”

The doorknob began to rattle violently.