“Your grandmother always said some things are worth more than justice, Harper,” Mrs. Bellamy said softly.

My phone buzzed again in my apron pocket, a persistent, aggressive vibration.

I reached in and pulled it out, the bright screen illuminating the dark space between us.

The caller ID showed an unknown number, but the area code was local.

At the top of the stairs, the heavy cellar door creaked open once more.

A shadow fell across the wooden steps, blocking the light from the kitchen above.

I froze, my thumb hovering over the decline button on my phone.

The silhouette of a woman appeared at the landing, her sharp heels clicking against the top step.

“Nico?” a voice called out, cold and demanding.

It was Seraphina Romano.

Seraphina’s heels clicked on the wooden steps, a sharp, rhythmic sound that echoed off the damp brick walls of the cellar.

Nico did not flinch, but his jaw tightened.

He kept his eyes on me for a second longer before turning slowly toward the staircase.

“Seraphina,” Nico said, his voice flat and dangerous. “I told you to wait upstairs in the office.”