Inside, the air was cold and smelled of old paper and damp wood.

“Megan?” I called out, my voice echoing in the empty foyer.

There was no answer, only the sound of the wind rattling the loose window panes.

I walked into the kitchen, my flashlight beam cutting through the gloom.

A drawer had been left open, silverware scattered across the hardwood floor.

“Ethan was looking for something,” Daniel said, pointing to the mess.

“He knows about the trust documents Rose brought,” I said, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

“The ones that prove the estate belongs to Rose,” Daniel nodded.

We heard a floorboard creak upstairs, followed by the muffled sound of a sob.

I hurried up the stairs, my hand gripping the cold wooden banister.

At the end of the hallway, the door to the master bedroom was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open slowly.

Megan was sitting on the edge of the bed, her face streaked with tears and her hands trembling.

“Where is he, Megan?” I asked softly, kneeling in front of her.

She looked at me, her eyes wide with terror.