The closet door creaked open.
Slow.
Soft.
Creeping.
Rhea's entire body locked. Luca stepped in front of her without hesitation, one arm extended behind him, keeping her close.
"Stay back," he whispered.
Rhea's breath hitched. "Is someone in there?"
Luca didn't answer. He inched toward the half-open door, muscles tense, eyes sharp.
The closet was dark inside—pitch black. Too black. The kind of black that felt alive.
Rhea's pulse hammered as Luca reached the door and pushed it fully open with his foot.
The darkness inside shifted.
Something inside… moved.
Luca tightened his grip on the palette knife he'd grabbed earlier.
"Show yourself," he growled.
Silence.
Then…
A small thud hit the wooden floor.
Rhea jumped. "Luca…"
He raised a hand to silence her, eyes fixed on the darkness.
Then something rolled out of the closet.
A small box.
Wrapped in silk.
Black silk.
Luca cursed under his breath and crouched. "He was here."
"He was in your room?" Rhea whispered. "While we were talking?"
"Not while we were talking," Luca said, picking up the box. "Before."
Rhea hugged her arms. "You mean he planted this?"
"Yes."
He opened the lid.
Inside lay a delicate silver bracelet.
Rhea's stomach dropped. "That's Serena's."
"No." Luca exhaled hard. "This one wasn't hers."
Rhea blinked. "Then whose is it?"
He looked at her.
"You."
Rhea stepped back. "What?"
"This is yours," Luca said, voice low. "Something you're supposed to wear."
Her breath cracked. "Why would he give me a bracelet?"
"To mark you," Luca said. "To claim you as the next piece in his game."
Rhea's knees nearly gave out.
Before she could respond, heavy footsteps rushed down the hallway outside.
A guard banged on the door. "Mr. Moretti! There's something you need to see—now!"
Luca grabbed Rhea's hand and pulled her toward the door. "Stay close. Don't speak unless I tell you to."
"Luca, what's happening?"
"I don't know," he hissed, "but I'm about to find out."
He opened the door.
The guard looked pale, shaken. "Sir… it's on the third floor."
"What is?"
"The locked door," the guard whispered. "It's open."
Rhea froze.
Slowly, she turned to Luca.
His expression changed.
All color drained from his face.
"No," he muttered. "That door was sealed."
The guard swallowed hard. "Not anymore, sir."
Rhea whispered, "What's behind that door?"
Luca didn't answer.
He grabbed her wrist again and practically dragged her down the hallway.
His grip wasn't harsh—just terrified.
They reached the grand staircase. Luca didn't slow, didn't let her breathe, pulling her upward in quick, long strides.
"Luca— please, slow down…" Rhea panted.
"We don't have time."
"What's on the third floor?"
He didn't answer.
"Luca, TALK TO ME!"
He stopped suddenly on the landing and turned to her, eyes wild.
"That door," he whispered, "is the one place in this mansion no one should ever enter."
Rhea's skin prickled. "Why?"
"Because that's where it started."
"What started?"
"The fire."
Rhea's blood turned to ice.
"The night Serena died?" she whispered.
Luca closed his eyes. "Yes."
The guard cleared his throat nervously. "Sir… you need to see it."
Luca took a deep breath and continued upward.
They reached the third floor.
It was darker than the rest of the house—colder. The lights hummed low, flickering every few seconds. Rhea felt her heartbeat in her ears.
Halfway down the hallway stood an ancient wooden door.
Large. Heavy. Steel-reinforced.
And wide open.
"It was locked tight," Luca muttered. "No one had access but me."
Rhea shivered. "Then how…"
"He did."
Luca approached the door slowly.
Inside the room was darkness thick as tar.
A burned smell drifted out—old smoke, charred wood, melted plastic. Rhea's heart twisted painfully.
"This is where she died?" she whispered.
Luca didn't answer.
He stepped inside first.
Rhea followed.
The room was frozen in time.
Charred walls blackened to ash.
A ruined chandelier on the floor.
The faint outline of furniture burned down to skeletons.
But the center of the room—the center—was untouched.
A single spot.
Perfect.
Clean.
Clear.
As if the fire refused to touch it.
Rhea stared. "Why is that part intact?"
Luca's jaw flexed. "Because that's where Serena was standing before…"
He didn't finish.
Rhea turned slowly, eyes scanning the scorched walls.
Something glinted on the far side of the room.
She stepped forward. "What's that?"
"Rhea, wait!"
She ignored him and crouched.
A small metal box lay half-buried under soot.
She lifted it carefully.
Luca's breath caught. "I haven't seen that since."
He knelt beside her, brushing ash off the lid.
Rhea whispered, "What is it?"
"A music box," Luca murmured. "Serena's."
Rhea's heart clenched. "She kept it here?"
"She never let anyone touch it."
"Does it still work?"
Luca hesitated.
Then he turned the small key on the side.
The box clicked open.
A soft lullaby began to play—slow, broken, warped from heat damage. The eerie melody echoed through the burned room.
Rhea shuddered. "That's… that's Serena's favorite lullaby."
"Yes."
"And she only played it when she was scared."
Luca looked at her sharply. "How do you know that?"
Rhea swallowed. "Because I used to hide under her bed when our parents fought. She would play that song to calm me down."
Luca's expression shifted.
Softened.
But before Rhea could say anything else…
The music stopped suddenly.
The box snapped shut on its own.
Rhea's breath hitched. "Luca—did you see that?"
A voice whispered behind them.
"She played it the night she died."
Rhea spun.
The man from the studio stood in the doorway.
Calm.
Still.
Smiling.
Luca rose instantly, fury tearing through him. "You crossed a line."
"I cross many lines," the man replied lightly. "It's fun."
Rhea stepped back instinctively. Luca blocked her.
The man tilted his head. "Serena never told you what she saw in this room, did she?"
"Don't talk about her," Luca warned.
"Oh, but you like keeping secrets," the man said. "So let's share one."
He stepped farther into the burned room, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on Rhea.
"Miss Vale," he said, "do you know why the fire didn't touch that spot?"
Rhea tried to speak but couldn't.
The man smiled.
"Because she wasn't alone."
Silence.
Luca stiffened. "Stop."
"She wasn't burning alone," the man whispered. "Someone stood right beside her."
Rhea's pulse raced. "Who?"
The man's smile widened.
"Luca."
Rhea's balance faltered.
"What?" she breathed.
"That's a lie," Luca snapped.
"Is it?" the man murmured. "Want to tell her where you were that night?"
Rhea turned to Luca, throat tight. "Luca… is that true?"
"Rhea, don't listen to him."
"Were you here?" she whispered. "When she died?"
Luca didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
His silence was an answer.
The man chuckled. "Oh, this is my favorite part."
"Enough!" Luca roared.
He lunged at the man…
But the man was faster. He stepped back into the hallway and slammed the door behind him.
Luca tried to open it.
It wouldn't budge.
Rhea rushed to his side. "Luca—can you just tell me what is happening?"
Suddenly…
The music box in her hand clicked…and began to play again.
Slow.
Twisted.
Losing its mind.
Rhea froze.
Luca turned.
"What did you do?" he whispered.
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
The music box lid vibrated—and then snapped open.
Inside, where the dancer should've been—
Was a small note.
Rhea's hands shook violently as she opened it.
Three words stared back at her.
ASK
HIM
WHY
Rhea slowly lifted her eyes to Luca's.
His face was pale.
Frozen.
"Luca…" she whispered. "What did you do?"
Before he could speak…
The burned room door behind them slammed shut.
And the lock clicked.