Morning crept through the mansion like a thief. Lydia stood at the balcony outside her room, the mist still heavy in the garden, her mind weighed down by the tension that had settled over the house in recent weeks. David had grown quieter, but his silence was the kind that carried a storm. Jacob, meanwhile, had buried himself deeper in company matters, vanishing early and returning long after dinner was cold.
The staff had learned to tread lightly — voices hushed, footsteps soft. Even the birds that usually perched on the balcony railings seemed to avoid the mansion now, as if sensing the unease.
That morning, Lydia went to the library to arrange some old records, but something caught her attention: a half-opened drawer on Jacob’s desk. She hesitated, debating whether to close it, but cu
