The wind howled in restless, mournful bursts, tugging at Elena Harper's scarf as she stood on the edge of the weathered dock, watching the gray sea churn beneath her. Whitecaps curled over the surface, a rolling, endless tide that seemed to echo the knot twisting in her stomach. The ferry that had carried her from the sleepy mainland town of Brookhaven was already shrinking into the mist, leaving her stranded on the private island estate of one of the wealthiest—and most reclusive—men in the world.
Adrian Vale.
His name was as cold and formidable as the estate itself.
Elena tugged her duffel bag higher onto her shoulder and took in the scene before her. The grand, looming manor perched atop a sea cliff like a sentinel, its dark stone façade streaked with rain and age. Rows of tall, narrow windows stared blankly down, unwelcoming, as though the house itself resented her presence. To the right, a narrow pathway curved uphill, flanked by towering pines and patches of windblown wildflowers that clung stubbornly to the earth.
The estate seemed more fortress than home.
A figure emerged from the mist, cutting across the damp shoreline with crisp, efficient strides. A woman in a tailored gray coat, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun, approached with the kind of expression that could turn seafoam to ice.
"Miss Harper, I presume?"
Elena nodded, brushing damp hair from her face. "Yes. Elena Harper. I'm—"
"I'm aware," the woman cut in smoothly. "I'm Lydia March, Mr. Vale's personal assistant. I've been instructed to escort you to the laboratory and explain the expectations of your residency here."
Residency. The word felt clinical, as if she were being housed for observation rather than offered a six-month research grant.
Elena followed Lydia up the path, the damp earth soft beneath her boots. The scent of salt and pine filled the air, sharp and wild. She hadn't expected it to feel so…desolate here. Remote, yes. But there was a haunting beauty to the way the mist clung to the trees, the restless crash of the sea far below.
They climbed in silence, the manor growing larger with every step.
"The laboratory is located in the eastern wing," Lydia continued, voice clipped. "You'll find it fully equipped to your specifications. Mr. Vale has taken care to ensure your research on Pyrocladia lumina can be conducted without limitation."
Elena glanced sideways. "He certainly went through a lot of trouble for one marine biologist."
Lydia's expression didn't change. "Mr. Vale values results."
The front entrance was a massive set of double doors, carved with an intricate design of waves and sea creatures intertwined in ancient patterns. The wood was dark with age, the brass handles worn to a dull sheen.
As they stepped inside, the scent of old wood and rain-soaked stone enveloped Elena. The interior was even grander than she'd imagined—vaulted ceilings supported by ancient oak beams, walls lined with bookshelves that stretched impossibly high. The space was dimly lit, but warm, a crackling hearth casting shifting patterns of light across the polished floors.
"This way." Lydia led her through a long corridor where the ocean's voice echoed faintly through narrow windows.
Elena's pulse quickened when they reached a set of glass doors. Beyond them lay the heart of the estate's research facility.
The laboratory was breathtaking. Rows of glass tanks glowed with pale blue light, delicate strands of bioluminescent algae drifting like threads of starlight in the current. Shelves of pristine equipment lined the walls, and a massive observation tank stretched along the far side, housing a swirling dance of luminescent plankton.
For the first time since she'd arrived, awe eclipsed her unease.
"This… this is incredible," Elena whispered, stepping forward. The glass reflected her face—pale, freckled, wide-eyed—beside the dancing light.
Lydia nodded briskly. "You'll find Mr. Vale is nothing if not thorough. He expects your findings to be reported weekly. Meals will be delivered to your quarters, and—"
"When will I meet him?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Lydia's brows lifted, just slightly.
"Mr. Vale does not typically involve himself with guests."
"But he funded my entire grant. He insisted on reviewing my work personally."
"He will review your results, Miss Harper. Not your methods."
Elena crossed her arms. "So, he invited me to his island and doesn't plan to introduce himself? That's… odd."
Lydia's lips thinned. "Mr. Vale values his privacy. I assure you, his intentions are entirely professional."
Professional. Sure.
But something about the secrecy of it all made Elena uneasy. Why had he gone to such lengths to bring her here, only to remain hidden in the shadows?
Before she could press further, Lydia gestured to a smaller hallway off the lab. "Your quarters are through there. If you require anything else, you may contact me directly."
Elena nodded, still absorbing the quiet hum of the tanks, the way the bioluminescence pulsed gently, as if the ocean itself breathed within these walls.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence.
She was alone.
Later, after unpacking in the modest but elegant guest suite, Elena sat by the rain-speckled window, notebook open, pen hovering above the first empty page.
She should've been excited. This was everything she'd dreamed of—state-of-the-art facilities, full creative freedom in her research. No university politics, no budget restrictions.
So why did she feel like a specimen herself, trapped in this echoing house where even the walls seemed to watch?
Her gaze drifted to the window. Beyond the mist, the sea was restless, an endless, shifting gray.
Somewhere in this house, Adrian Vale was watching too.
Of that, she was certain.