Greystone Manor stood on the highest point of the town, like a lonely fortress overlooking the entire town of Greystone. Its exterior walls were made of dark gray stone, and the scars of time had carved countless cracks into them, as if the building itself was under some kind of invisible pressure. When night fell, a faint light filtered through the windows of the manor, a silent warning to the townspeople to stay away.
Jackson stood at the window of his study, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his eyes piercing through the heavy curtains and landing on the town in the distance. His face appeared particularly cold in the dim light, and a trace of imperceptible fatigue lurked in the deep sockets of his eyes. The walls of the study were covered with portraits of successive generations of the family, and each pair of eyes seemed to be watching him, judging him.
"What are you looking at again?" A low voice came from behind him.
Jackson didn't look back, just shook the glass in his hand. "Just looking at this town, seeing how they live in our shadow."
It was his father, Jackson Sr. who spoke. He walked over to his son and looked out the window as well. "There's something wrong with you lately, Jackson. Is it that girl's death?"
The corners of Jackson's mouth twitched slightly, but quickly regained their composure. "It was an accident, Father. I had nothing to do with it."
Old Jackson sneered, a hint of mockery in his voice. "An accident? Nothing in this town is really an accident. You'd better be careful you don't let those senseless emotions ruin you."
Jackson didn't respond, just drained his glass of whiskey. His father had always been like that, cold and realistic, as if emotions were a luxury that people like them didn't deserve. But Jackson knew he wasn't as heartless as his father. Sarah's death was a thorn in his side, and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the pain would never go away.
"I hear her sister's back," Jackson Sr. continued, a hint of warning in his tone. "Allison, right? She's trouble, Jackson. Don't let her near you."
Jackson turned and looked at his father with an icy stare. "I don't need your advice, Father. I know what to do."
The elder Jackson stared at him for a few seconds and finally nodded. "I hope so." He turned and left the study, leaving Jackson standing by the window.
The room fell silent again, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Jackson walked over to the desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out a photograph. In the picture was Sarah, with a smile so bright and innocent that it seemed to light up the gloom of Greystone. He stroked the picture gently, and a flash of pain passed through his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Sarah," he whispered, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of the clock.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the study door. Jackson quickly returned the photograph to its drawer and resumed his calm expression. "Come in."
The door opened and the butler walked in, holding a delicate envelope in his hand. "Sir, this is an invitation for you."
Jackson took the envelope and opened it, frowning slightly. "A charity dinner in town? I thought we had declined."
The butler nodded. "Yes, but the organizers insisted on inviting you. They said it would be a good opportunity to rehabilitate our image."
Jackson sneered and tossed the invitation on the table. "Repair your image? That's ridiculous." He was silent for a moment, but finally nodded. "Tell them I'll be there."
After the butler left, Jackson walked to the window again, his eyes falling on the town in the distance. He knew that this dinner would be an opportunity, a chance for him to regain control. But at the same time, he knew that Allison would be there. Her vengeance was like a sharp knife that could stab him at any moment.
"Come on, Allison," he whispered, a sneer tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Show me how far you can go."
The lights of Greystone Manor stood out in the night, and Jackson's façade became even more impenetrable at that moment.