The moment we stepped further into the mansion, I felt the air change. It wasn't just cold—it was suffocating, heavy, as if the house itself were breathing in time with us. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind racing with each step we took deeper into the shadows of this place. There was something alive in the walls, a presence that lurked just out of sight, and I felt it crawling along my skin, tightening around my throat.
We walked down dark hallways, past ornate mirrors and towering bookshelves, each turn revealing more of the Vancourt family's twisted history. Portraits of long-dead ancestors loomed over us, their eyes piercing through the darkness, judging us. They didn't just stare—they studied, their expressions so stern and cold it felt like we were trespassing in a museum of power and control, not a home.
Daxton led us without a word, his footsteps echoing loudly in the vastness of the mansion. His silence was worse than any threat. It was like he was waiting for something, anticipating the moment when we'd break, when we'd show our fear. And I knew it was only a matter of time.
The deeper we went, the darker the house became. The air smelled old, damp, like something forgotten and left to rot. The walls seemed to close in with every step, and I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was always behind us, watching. But when I turned, there was only silence. Only the weight of the house pressing down on us.
Finally, Daxton stopped in front of a set of double doors—massive, imposing, carved from dark wood. He opened them without a word and ushered us inside.
Ryker Vancourt was sitting at the head of a long table. The room was dim, lit only by a few candles flickering in the corners. The shadows clung to him, wrapping around his tall frame like a cloak. He didn't stand to greet us. He didn't need to. His presence filled the room, suffocating and commanding, like he owned everything in sight. And I knew he did.
I could feel Kaius tense beside me, his small hand gripping mine tighter than usual. Amari, always the brave one, stayed close but tried to act casual, unaware—or maybe choosing to ignore—the weight of the situation. I, however, couldn't ignore it. The air was thick with something I couldn't name, something old, something dangerous.
"Jemima," Ryker's voice was low, smooth, like a velvet glove over steel. "It's been a long time." He didn't smile, didn't show any emotion. But his eyes—they were cold. Calculating. He was sizing me up, waiting for me to break.
I swallowed hard, trying to maintain control. "Ryker," I said, my voice sounding smaller than I wanted it to. I couldn't help it. The man exuded power in a way that made it impossible to look him in the eye for too long.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled together like he was toying with something. I could almost hear him thinking, watching us like we were pieces on a chessboard. "I'm sure you're wondering why we're here," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand secrets. "But the answer is simple. You're here because Sage left something for you. For your children." He said it with a tone that made it sound like a gift—but I knew better. There was always a price with Ryker.
"And what exactly is it that you want in return?" I asked, my voice coming out more steady than I felt.
Ryker's smile was slow, deliberate. A predator's smile. "I want nothing," he said, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "But you should know that we have always controlled the fate of the Vancourt family. The inheritance comes with... conditions."
A shiver ran down my spine, but I didn't let it show. "Conditions?" I echoed, trying to keep my voice even.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, his gaze locking onto mine with the intensity of a man who had spent his entire life getting what he wanted. "You'll understand soon enough," he said, his voice dropping lower. "You're not here to just collect a fortune. You're here because we have plans for you. For your children."
I felt a cold wave crash over me. Plans?
The silence stretched between us, thick and oppressive, like the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting for me to react. I couldn't decide if I was afraid or furious—maybe both. But all I knew was that Ryker Vancourt was not just offering us money; he was offering us control—and I wasn't sure I could trust him.
"I'm sure you can guess," he continued, his voice growing darker, "that we've been waiting for this day. The Vancourts don't let go of what's theirs, Jemima. Not easily."
A shiver ran through me. I looked at Kaius and Amari, who were standing next to me, their faces reflecting the same confusion and unease I felt. They didn't understand what was at stake here—not yet. But I did. And the weight of it was crushing.
Ryker's gaze didn't move from mine. "You'll find that the Vancourt family doesn't give anything without taking something in return. There are debts to be paid, and I trust you understand the cost of taking what's been offered."
I swallowed, trying to steady my nerves, but the room felt colder now, suffocating. The walls seemed to close in even tighter, and the portraits of his ancestors—their eyes—felt like they were alive, judging, waiting for me to make a choice.
I was in over my head.
I tried to steady my voice. "What exactly do you want from me?"
He leaned back again, his eyes narrowing. "I think you'll find out soon enough. But for now," he said, his smile returning, "we'll leave it at that. You'll have everything you need to claim what's rightfully yours. But remember, nothing here comes free."
With that, he stood up, the motion so deliberate, so powerful, that I couldn't help but feel small in comparison.
I was trapped. We were all trapped.
The mansion, with all its dark history, had already begun to tighten its grip on us. And I was beginning to realize there was no way out without paying a price.
The Vancourts had always controlled their fates. But now, it seemed, I was the one being controlled.
And it terrified me.