The air in the west wing of the mansion felt heavier as we hurried along the dimly lit corridor. The faint light from Damien's flashlight threw shadows on the walls, making the ornate carvings of the wood paneling seem alive. Every step echoed ominously, heightening the tension that coiled like a spring inside me.
The map trembled slightly in my hands—not from the unsteady light, but from my own nerves. The "X" marked on it felt closer with each passing second, but I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that this journey might uncover truths too painful to bear.
"This way," Damien said, his voice a low murmur as he gestured toward another hall.
I nodded, my throat too dry to speak. The promise of answers lay ahead, but so did uncertainty. What if the will wasn't there? Or worse, what if it was, and the truths it held shattered everything I thought I knew about my mother—and Damien's family?
