Fallon
I wasn’t technically snooping.
I was exploring.
That’s what I told myself, anyway, as I wandered through one of the many unused rooms in Reid’s impossibly large mansion. The house was so pristine, so perfect, it barely felt lived in — all cold elegance and curated spaces that felt more like a museum than a home.
But this room was different.
The air smelled faintly of dust and old paper, and sunlight streamed through tall windows, catching the slow swirl of dust motes in the stillness. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, packed with books that looked untouched — their spines uncreased and colors faded. A worn armchair sat in the corner, its leather cracked and softened with age, the only sign that someone had ever spent time here.
It felt… forgotten.
Which made it all th
