The night air was thick with tension, almost as though the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting for something inevitable to happen. I stood in the grand hallway, the dim light from the chandelier casting long shadows on the stone floor. It felt like a dream—one I couldn't wake from. Every step I took, every conversation I had, seemed to lead me deeper into a labyrinth of secrets and lies, with no clear way out.
Damien had been quieter than usual, his demeanor guarded and distant, but I had seen the strain in his eyes—the way he would glance at me as though waiting for some confirmation, some sign that I still trusted him. But how could I? How could I trust him, knowing what his family had done? How could I trust him when everything about my mother's past was still shrouded in mystery, when the truth seemed more elusive than ever?