The storm arrived just past midnight.
Rain lashed the windows. Wind howled through the eaves. Power flickered once—then cut entirely.
Stella stood in the hallway, holding a lantern. “Greta?"
Silence.
“Anyone?"
She turned toward the east wing. A single emergency light glowed at the end of the corridor—above the library door.
---
Inside, the air was thick with old paper and cold drafts.
Joseph was already there, rifling through drawers.
“You?" Stella said.
He looked up. “I could say the same."
“I came to check for leaks."
“Liar."
“Excuse me?"
“You always come here when no one's around."
She set the lantern on a side table. “Maybe I like the quiet."
He didn't respond. Instead, he returned to a stack of dusty boxes. “I'm looking for files. Anything on my father's final hours."
