Richard locked the study with a firm click and headed straight to his master bedroom.
As he entered the bedroom, he halted. There she was.
Annabelle stood motionless in the middle of the room, staring into space like she was lost between worlds. Her gaze roamed over the pristine white decor—the ornate furniture, polished marble, crisp curtains, and silver-lined shelves. Something about it hit her hard. There was pain in her eyes, like an old wound being prodded open. A memory hovered just beneath the surface, threatening to break free.
Richard stepped behind her and tapped her shoulder, snapping her out of the trance.
"Why are you just standing here like a statue?"
Annabelle turned to him slowly. Her glassy eyes met his, then flicked around the room again. She looked like a ghost of h
