The Cross mansion loomed over me in the dark, its gothic architecture as intimidating as ever. I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter around me. Sneaking into this place felt like a suicide mission, but I couldn’t let the fear stop me.
I had to know the truth about Victor.
The house was eerily quiet as I slipped through the side entrance I’d seen the maid use earlier that day. My heart pounded in my chest as I crept down the long hallways, my footsteps muffled against the thick rugs. Every shadow felt like it was watching me, and every creak of the floorboards made me jump.
I had no idea where to start, but something told me the answers weren’t going to be out in the open. The brothers had already warned me—this family hid their secrets well.
I found myself in the basement, my flashlight casting long, flickering shadows on the cold stone walls. The air down here was damp and heavy, and the faint smell of mildew mixed with something metallic I couldn’t quite place.
At the far end of the basement, a heavy wooden door caught my attention. It was different from the others—reinforced with steel bars and a large, rusted padlock.
Bingo.
I rummaged through the tools I’d brought with me and managed to pick the lock after a few tense minutes. The door creaked open, revealing a room that made my stomach drop.
Inside, the walls were lined with shelves stacked with old photographs, documents, and what looked like personal belongings. In the center of the room was a table covered in items that sent a chill down my spine: a torn scarf, a cracked locket, and a bracelet. Evelyn’s bracelet.
I reached out, my hand trembling as I picked it up. The charm dangled from the chain, its familiar shine dulled with time. My throat tightened as I realized how close I was to the truth.
Among the clutter, I noticed a worn leather journal sitting on the edge of the table. Victor’s name was etched into the cover.
I hesitated for only a second before opening it, flipping through the pages filled with his sharp, precise handwriting.
One entry caught my attention immediately.
“Control is the only way to ensure loyalty. Fear binds tighter than love. Sacrifices must be made to maintain order. Evelyn was just the beginning.”
My breath hitched as the words sunk in. Sacrifices? What did he mean by that? And why was Evelyn just the beginning?
The journal was filled with similar entries, detailing Victor’s belief in fear and manipulation as tools to control his sons. He wrote about testing their loyalty, about eliminating “distractions” that threatened to pull them away from his grasp.
Evelyn had been one of those distractions.
I felt sick, my stomach churning as I read the horrifying details of how Victor viewed his own children as pawns in some twisted game.
I was so absorbed in the journal that I didn’t hear the footsteps at first.
The sound of heavy boots on the basement stairs made my heart stop. I quickly turned off my flashlight and crouched behind a stack of crates, clutching the journal to my chest.
The footsteps grew louder, echoing in the silence. Whoever it was stopped right outside the room, their shadow stretching into the doorway.
I held my breath, every muscle in my body tense as I tried to remain as quiet as possible.
The person stepped inside, their silhouette barely visible in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling.
My mind raced. Was it Victor? One of the brothers? Someone else entirely?
The figure moved slowly, their gaze scanning the room. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears as I watched them from my hiding spot, praying they wouldn’t come any closer.
They stopped near the table, their hand brushing over Evelyn’s bracelet. For a moment, they just stood there, as if lost in thought.
Then they turned and walked toward the door, pausing just outside.
I bit my lip, trying to stifle the sound of my breathing.
“Stay out of things that don’t concern you,” a voice growled, low and menacing.
I froze, my heart dropping into my stomach.
Victor.