Sonia’s POV
It was the kind of night that hummed with quiet tension.
The sky outside my window was heavy with clouds, pressing close to the mansion’s roof as if the world itself was holding its breath. I sat at my desk, the lamp throwing a soft pool of gold across the scattered pages of my journal, but I wasn’t writing. I was staring.
At the scarf.
The same crimson scarf I’d found in the greenhouse. It lay folded neatly now, but every time I looked at it, I felt that strange chill slide down my spine again. I told myself I wouldn’t think about it tonight. I’d already done enough trembling for one lifetime.
So I turned off the lamp, crawled into bed, and tried to force myself to sleep.
But sleep wouldn’t come.
Maybe because somewhere inside me, I could feel it, the weight of somethin
