Aria closed her eyes, trying to sleep, but all she saw was the ghost of a dead man.
She couldn't sleep. She lay there, frustrated, heart racing every time she blinked.
Every time her eyes shut, she saw him—the man in the lamplight. The shape in the reflection. The ghost who wasn't supposed to exist. Damian Cole. Dead, yet standing in the same room with her.
His voice echoed relentlessly in her head.
You shouldn't be here.
She sat upright long before dawn, pulse still slamming like it hadn't stopped since he appeared in the study. The house was silent. The kind of silence that felt like it was watching her. Every breath, every shadow, every faint hum of air felt alive.
She couldn't take it anymore.
At 4:13 a.m., she threw on her robe and slipped out of her room, bare feet soundless against the cold marble floor. Glass walls reflected her movements like she was being followed by herself, or something else.
At the study door, she paused. The handle was cold.
She pushed it open.
Salt, paper, and something old clung to the air. The desk lamp still on. Pages sat exactly where she'd left them, the laptop open like time had paused here and nowhere else.
Aria moved closer, fingers trembling above the paper, afraid touching it would erase everything. Or worse, prove it was real.
A single line stared up at her:
"Truth lives in what we bury."
Her blood ran cold.
She stumbled back, breath uneven, mind spinning, every instinct screaming that something in this house was terribly wrong.
She turned and nearly collided with Mara in the hallway.
Mara's face was pale, eyes wide, like she didn't expect Aria to be awake, or alive.
"What are you doing up?" Mara's voice wavered, too controlled.
"Someone was in the study," Aria said, breath shaking.
Mara didn't answer immediately. Her lips pressed thin, voice barely steady. "You're imagining things."
"I saw him," Aria whispered, then louder, desperate. "Damian Cole. I saw him."
Mara's face went blank. A frightening, empty blank. Then something flickered behind her eyes. Recognition. Fear.
"You didn't see anything," she snapped quietly. "You're tired. This house—"
"This house what?" Aria stepped forward. "Tell me the truth, Mara."
Before she could answer, a calm voice cut through the hallway.
"Enough."
Mrs. Rowan stood at the end of the corridor, silk robe pristine, hair pinned perfectly like she hadn't slept at all. Her face held that unbreakable calm. The kind that didn't soothe, but threatened.
"Mara," she said, "prepare the guest room tea. Ms. Hale looks… unsettled."
"I don't need tea," Aria snapped. "I need answers."
Mara froze. Mrs. Rowan's eyes flickered, barely, but enough. For the first time since Aria arrived, she looked human. Not controlled. Not collected. Afraid.
"You've been under stress, Ms. Hale. The isolation here can be... difficult."
Aria shook her head. "No, I'm not making this up. You both know something you're not saying."
The air between them felt heavy.
Mrs. Rowan exhaled softly. take the day to rest. That's an order."
Silence fell.
A heavy, suffocating silence that filled the hall.
Mara returned then, carrying a tray with shaking hands. She wouldn't meet Aria's eyes.
"Drink," she whispered.
Aria didn't move.
Mrs. Rowan stepped closer. "Stay out of the study at night," she said softly. "That is not a request. It is survival."
Then she walked away.
Aria didn't drink the tea.
---
When sunlight finally crept through fog-kissed windows, Aria sat awake, mind racing. She couldn't breathe in this place any longer. She packed quickly: clothes, notes, laptop. She hadn't touched the pay; she would leave it behind. She just wanted out.
The mansion glowed with late day light as she approached the main doors, hope beating fast in her chest.
But just as she reached the front doors, a uniformed guard appeared. He wasn't threatening just there, blocking her way, face blank as stone.
"Ma'am," he said, "you can't leave without authorization."
Aria snapped. "I'm not under arrest."
"It's protocol, ma'am. Your movements in and out of the property must be cleared through Mrs. Rowan."
Her stomach dropped. "Are you serious?"
The guard didn't answer, only gestured politely but firmly toward the hallway. "Please return to your room.
Back in the entrance, the echo of her footsteps seemed louder than before. Mrs. Rowan waited near the front door, her expression unreadable.
"I'm leaving," Aria said.
"You signed a confidentiality contract," Mrs. Rowan replied, voice quiet. "Until the project is finished, your stay is mandatory."
"Mandatory?"
"For your safety and ours."
"What does that mean?" Aria demanded. "For my safety?"
"You cannot leave," Mrs. Rowan said, tone final. "Not yet."
Aria's hands balled into fists. "I won't go back inside unless someone tells me the truth."
She muttered under her breath, almost to herself, "Tougher than she looks."
Then she faced the guards, expression unreadable. "Keep an eye on her."
Aria watched as Mrs. Rowan disappeared down one of the corridors, heels clicking, voice fading into the distance. No one said where she went or why.
Minutes passed before she returned, expression tighter now, posture composed but charged with something unspoken.
She stopped a few feet away from Aria and met her eyes.
"Mr. Cole," she said quietly, "would like to speak with you. Alone. In the study."