The Journal’s Secrets.
The DeVargas estate's old windows let in the faint light of a declining moon, which created lengthy shadows in the great hall. Lorenzo approached his late mother's rooms, which had been unoccupied since her death, with quiet precision and a racing heart. The air was heavy with the smell of old wood and a hint of her perfume, which used to soothe him, while dust clung to the velvet curtains.
He carefully traced the exquisite carvings on the mahogany dresser. His gut told him about truths hidden beneath the weight of time. He ran his fingers across the grain of the wood, looking. Then there was a slight click.
Under his palm, a secret compartment slipped open. There was a battered leather journal inside, covered in thin fabric. He gasped. His mother owned it.
Loren
