Chapter 2
The mansion loomed before them, a shadow of the once-grand home it must have been. The grand entrance doors creaked closed behind them as Olivia, her siblings, and the faint chill in the air seemed to move in perfect synchrony. The sound echoed through the halls as if the house itself had swallowed their presence.
The air smelled musty, filled with the scent of old wood and lingering mildew. The marble floors beneath their feet were worn and cracked, the grand chandelier hanging above, once regal, now dull with layers of dust.
Olivia couldn't help but feel that the mansion was a reflection of everything she had been left behind. The silence of it weighed heavily on her—this wasn't just a house; it was a place of secrets, of memories her parents had locked away, and she had inherited them all, whether she wanted to or not.
"We need to find the will," Henry, her eldest brother, said, his voice firm, but there was an edge to it, like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. "The sooner we figure this out, the better."
Olivia glanced at him, taking in his uncharacteristic seriousness. He wasn't just trying to find answers. He was terrified, just like the rest of them.
But her gaze lingered on the dusty portrait that hung at the far end of the hall, partially hidden by cobwebs. She could just make out the familiar faces—her parents, young and smiling, standing proud in front of a backdrop she could only assume was this same mansion. The painting had an almost unnatural brightness to it, the kind that didn't match the rest of the place. Her mother's eyes seemed to follow her, no matter where she stood.
"Look, let's check the study," Marlene said, her voice breaking through Olivia's reverie. Her sister's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, eyes darting nervously around the room, as if expecting something to jump out at them. Olivia noticed Marlene's face—a thin mask of indifference, though her lips were pale, and her eyes betrayed the anxiety she was trying to hide.
Marlene led the way, her steps deliberate but hurried. Lila, the youngest of them all, trailed behind, holding her arms close to her sides as if she were cold. Her eyes were wide with fear, a stark contrast to her usual cheerful self. It made Olivia's heart ache to see her like this, but she couldn't even find the words to comfort her. There was something more than fear in this house. Something that pulled them all deeper into its grasp.
The study door was at the end of a long hallway, its wood dark and lacquered, more intact than anything else in the mansion. As Olivia reached for the handle, her fingers trembled. She hesitated for a moment, heart racing, before pushing it open.
The study was a large room with shelves full of old, tattered books that smelled of rot and history. At the center of the room stood a large, polished desk. Behind it, a dark window stared out into the distance, showing nothing but the overgrown garden, as if the house had once kept a close eye on its surroundings.
Henry immediately moved toward the desk, scanning it for any signs of documents. But Olivia's gaze was drawn to the far corner, where a worn leather chair sat, facing away from the room. It was odd—why would someone leave a chair like that, placed so deliberately in such a strange position?
"Olivia, look at this," Henry called, his voice pulling her out of her trance. He stood over a stack of papers, his face tight with frustration.
She moved toward him, but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention—a soft, faint whispering, barely perceptible, like the wind slipping through the cracks in the window. Olivia turned her head slowly toward the chair in the corner. The whispering stopped, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
"What's wrong?" Marlene asked, sensing Olivia's unease.
"I… I thought I heard something," Olivia murmured. "In the corner."
Henry followed her gaze and scoffed. "It's nothing. This place is full of noises. We're just imagining things."
But Olivia wasn't so sure. She had always been intuitive, her senses keen—something was in that chair. She could feel it.
As she stepped forward, she couldn't help but notice the way the dust on the floor had been disturbed, as if someone—something—had recently moved the chair. She knelt down, her fingers brushing the dust, which was smoother in patches, leading toward the chair. Her breath hitched as she stood and reached for the back of the chair.
When she touched it, the room grew cold. So cold that her breath puffed in front of her. The temperature had dropped without warning, sending a wave of goosebumps over her skin.
"Olivia?" Henry's voice cracked with concern. She ignored him, her fingers trembling as she slowly turned the chair toward her.
There, at the base of the seat, were faint imprints—deep impressions, like someone had been sitting there just moments ago. But no one was in the room.
As Olivia stepped back, her chest tightened. A cold, oppressive feeling overwhelmed her as if something invisible had watched her every move. For a moment, it felt as though the house itself were holding its breath, waiting for her to make the next move.
"Let's keep looking," Marlene said, her voice terse, though Olivia could hear the same fear reflected in it.
Olivia couldn't help but glance once more at the chair, and she swore—just for a second—she saw the faintest trace of a shadow moving behind it, just out of reach. A flash of a figure, pale and distant. Her heart raced as she quickly turned away, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that had gripped her.
"Found something," Henry's voice broke through her thoughts, and Olivia rushed to his side.
He held up a sealed envelope with her mother's handwriting on it, a name scribbled across the front. Olivia froze when she saw the name.
Scarlett Devereux.