The clock had just struck midnight when Des caught the sound of soft laughter echoing down the hall. It wasn’t the kind of laughter that belonged to polite company. It was sharper, almost mischievous.
He followed it without meaning to.
The Hale estate always felt different at night. Shadows stretched long over the carpets, chandeliers hung like watchful eyes, and the air carried the faint creak of old wood. It wasn’t the kind of place where secrets should thrive. But tonight, it was exactly the kind of place for them.
He found Ava in the parlor, sprawled across the velvet couch as though she owned it. A record spun lazily on the gramophone, though the needle was skipping, stuck on the same bar of a jazz tune over and over. She didn’t seem to care.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” she asked
