The morning after Kaius' unsettling drawings, I couldn't shake the weight of the vision and the chill it had left in my bones. I knew I had to find answers. There was something dark at the core of this family, something I hadn't fully grasped yet. And it was starting to feel like the walls of the mansion were closing in around me, tightening with every passing moment.
That's when I heard about Imara.
She was a local psychic, a woman who was rumored to know things—things that weren't meant to be known. I'd heard whispers of her in the small town nearby, but I had dismissed them as just gossip. That was until I ran into her at a local café, of all places. She had been sitting alone in the corner, her eyes hidden behind dark glasses, her presence as mysterious as the rumors that swirled around her. When our eyes met, it was like she already knew who I was. The weight of her gaze made my skin prickle.
"Jemima," she said, her voice low and knowing. "I've been waiting for you."
I froze, my blood running cold. I hadn't introduced myself, and she was the last person I expected to know my name. "How do you know—?"
"You've come seeking answers. And you'll find them, but you won't like what you learn." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The Vancourts have been bound to something far darker than you can imagine. And your husband's death... it was no accident."
A shiver ran down my spine. I was about to question her further when she cut me off, her expression turning grim.
"Do you want to know the truth, Jemima? Or would you rather leave and pretend none of this is real?"
I took a breath, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn't want to hear it, but I had to. For my children. For Sage. "Tell me."
Imara didn't hesitate. She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup as if gathering the right words. "The Vancourt family is bound by dark rituals, ancient and terrible. Every generation, they perform sacrifices to keep the curse at bay. It's a tradition that's been passed down for centuries. Your husband, Sage… he was no different. His death, Jemima… it was a sacrifice."
I stared at her, my mind struggling to process what she was saying. "A sacrifice? You mean—Sage didn't just die from a car accident? He was—"
"Chosen," she interrupted, her eyes locking with mine. "He was chosen by the family to appease the curse. It's a blood debt that must be paid, one way or another. And you and your children, you're part of that debt now. The curse isn't just about money or power—it's about survival. The Vancourts have always been willing to pay the price, but they never told you that, did they?"
I felt sick, the room spinning as the truth sank in. Sage hadn't just died. He had been taken. He had sacrificed himself for something I had never known existed. I had thought his death was an unfortunate accident, a cruel twist of fate. But this... this was a system of control, a cycle of darkness that had been going on for generations.
"Why would Sage agree to that?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Why would he..."
Imara's face softened, but there was no pity in her eyes. "He didn't have a choice. No one does. The curse is more powerful than they realize. It binds them, drives them to do unspeakable things. And now, Jemima, you and your children are next in line to be sacrificed—unless you find a way to break the cycle."
I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. "How do I stop it?" I asked, desperate.
Imara reached out and touched my hand. "You'll need to confront the Vancourts. You'll need to find the source of the curse. But be careful, Jemima. Ryker Vancourt is not the man you think he is. He's more than just a patriarch. He's a keeper of the curse. And if you push him too far, there will be no coming back from it."
Her words echoed in my head as I left the café, my mind reeling. A sacrifice. A curse. I could barely wrap my head around the implications. And yet, the more I thought about it, the more the pieces of Sage's behavior before his death started to make sense. He had been trying to protect us. He had been fighting something we couldn't see.
But now, I had no choice but to face it.
The next day, I found myself standing in front of Ryker's office in the mansion. I'd had enough of the secrecy, enough of the whispers. I needed answers.
I took a deep breath before knocking sharply on the door. When Ryker's voice called out, I pushed it open without hesitation. He sat behind his massive desk, his cold eyes studying me as I walked in, his lips curling into a tight, calculating smile.
"What is it now, Jemima?" he asked, his tone dripping with thinly veiled annoyance.
"I know what's going on here," I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside of me. "I know about the curse. I know what your family has been doing for generations. And I know Sage didn't just die. He was sacrificed."
Ryker's expression didn't change, but the air in the room grew heavier. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing behind them.
"You're treading dangerous ground, Jemima," he said slowly, his voice low and menacing. "I suggest you forget what you think you know. You're in no position to be making accusations."
I took a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest. "I won't stop. I won't let my children become part of your twisted legacy."
Ryker's lips curled into a cruel smile. "You think you can fight this, that you can break free of it? You're naïve. The Vancourt bloodline is stronger than you realize. If you want to live, you'll keep your distance."
I felt a chill in my bones as I stared at him, his words sinking in. It was clear now that Ryker wasn't just a patriarch. He was the master of this curse, the keeper of a family history that was steeped in darkness.
I turned to leave, but as I reached for the door handle, I heard him speak again, his voice laced with a quiet, dangerous threat.
"Don't think you can stop this, Jemima. You'll regret it if you try."
I didn't say anything as I walked out, but I could feel the weight of his words pressing down on me. The curse was real, and Ryker wasn't just a part of it—he was its orchestrator.
And if I wanted to save my children, I would have to go through him.