Charles was already moving toward the hallway, his face pale.

“I’m going to check the study upstairs,” Charles said, not looking at any of us.

“Go,” Victoria told him. “Don’t leave a single drawer unopened.”

The house felt vast and cold around us, filled with the ghosts of a lifetime I thought I knew.

I watched Charles disappear up the stairs, his footsteps heavy and hurried.

I knew I had to act fast before they destroyed everything Garrett had left behind.

I looked at the portrait again, noticing for the first time how the bottom left corner of the frame sat a fraction of an inch away from the wallpaper.

The shadow behind it was deeper than it should have been.

I took a slow breath, waiting for Victoria to turn her back.

The clock on the mantel ticked away the first minutes of my forty-eight hours.

Just as Victoria turned to rip another drawer from the desk, a sudden, heavy thud echoed from the floor directly above our heads.

The ceiling plaster dust drifted down like dry snow.

Victoria gasped, her head jerking toward the stairs.