The path beyond the stone door branched out intricately, much like capillaries. Every few steps presented a fork, leading in different directions. With my lantern held aloft, I strained to scrutinize the footprints on the ground. The air, stagnant and oppressive, quickly caused sweat to bead on my forehead.
Isabella and Maggie had vanished. I’d followed their tracks, yet found no sign of them. The deeper I descended, the more uneasy I became. What was Owen up to? Why excavate such a vast, clandestine space beneath the manor? When Thomas and I had forged our alliance, I’d asserted that Owen, timid and cowardly, wouldn't involve himself in something as serious as embezzlement. As I surveyed the cellar, my face burned with shame. Owen was far more cunning than I'd realized, his machinations
