Cassidy drew a deep breath and pushed the heavy gate. It opened without a sound, as if perfectly oiled.
A path of black stone led her through a barren garden. Stone statues stood scattered on both sides. Cassidy shivered and pulled the blanket tighter over Emma’s face.
The mansion’s front door was made of massive oak. She pushed lightly, and the door opened as though the house had been waiting for her.
Inside, the main hall was as vast as a cathedral. The black marble floor shown like a mirror reflecting her small lost figure.
Cassidy felt like an ant that had wandered into the palace of demons. Something about this house terrified her to the bone.
The air was heavy and cold, carrying a scent of loneliness and pain. A thin layer of dust covered everything. Emma broke into a long coughing fit.
Cassidy needed to find warmth immediately. She opened the first door on the ground level—a living room, but the heater was broken. She rushed into the next room—a dining room.
The heater there was broken, too. Panic began to rise in her chest. She gathered Emma into her arms and ran up the staircase.
The guest bedroom, the library, the recreation room—all broken. Emma began to cry louder. Then, at the end of the hallway on the third floor, she found a study with a heater that released warm air.
Cassidy nearly cried with relief. She placed Emma near the heater, removed some layers, and gave her medicine.
Emma slowly calmed, her heavy eyelids drifting shut. Cassidy tucked the baby monitor into her pocket and decided to start working while Emma slept.
She didn’t know that as she was scrubbing the staircase on the first floor, a sleek black car had stopped outside and the owner of the mansion was walking into his own home.
Cassidy was kneeling on the 12th stair when she heard the crying—Emma’s cry, but it was the cry of fear.
Cassidy dropped the mop and shot up the stairs.
The baby monitor in her pocket made no sound; it had broken. She ran through the hallway. Emma’s crying stopped. The sudden silence was terrifying.
She shoved open the study door and froze. A man stood in the center of the room with his back to her, tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a long black coat.
In his arms was Emma, resting against the chest of a stranger.
Cassidy saw a sleek black gun on the wooden desk. The man was gently swaying, a low shushing sound leaving his mouth. Then the man turned around.
His face was sharp as granite, eyes the color of a storm. Yet deep within those eyes, Cassidy saw deep pain.
