Alan
The driveway of the Vance manor looked empty. Too empty.
I parked the car, heart already pounding before I even stepped out. Something about the stillness of the house felt… wrong. I had expected the quiet to greet me, the faint scent of dinner or the soft echo of laughter, but instead, the air felt hollow, tense, like it had been holding its breath.
I strode inside, my boots clicking sharply against the marble floors. Susan was there, seated on the couch, her posture rigid, her expression unusually tight.
“Cyril?” I asked immediately, my voice carrying an edge I tried to hide but couldn’t.
Susan’s eyes flicked up at me, hesitant. “No… I haven’t seen her yet, Alan.”
“No?” My chest tightened, and a cold wave of dread washed over me. “She’s not home?”
Susan hesitated again, and I
