Chapter 16

Valerie's POV

Why me?

The question followed me all the way back to my room.

It settled into every corner of my thoughts, refusing to leave no matter how many distractions I placed in front of it. By the time I reached the west wing, the fading sunlight had already begun slipping behind the cliffs surrounding Blackwood Heights. Long shadows stretched across the polished floors of the mansion, turning familiar hallways into dark reflections of themselves.

The mansion changed at night.

I had noticed it before.

During the day, the Vane Mansion felt cold and intimidating. At night, it felt alive.

Not alive in the ordinary sense.

Alive in the way an ancient thing might breathe beneath the surface while pretending to sleep.

The realization unsettled me.

Ever since arriving here, I had tried to convince myself that everything had a logical explanation. The strange architecture. The endless rules. The secret extension. The portraits.

There had to be reasons.

There always were.

But logic became harder to hold onto every day.

Especially after seeing those nine women.

Nine faces.

Nine pairs of eyes that looked so much like mine that I sometimes wondered if I had imagined them.

Except I hadn't.

Their portraits were real.

Their notes were real.

And whatever had happened to them was real too.

I entered my room and closed the door behind me.

The silence immediately wrapped around me.

Most people imagined luxury as comfort.

The Vane Mansion proved otherwise.

Luxury could be lonely.

The room was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the white forest below. Soft lighting glowed from hidden panels along the walls. Every piece of furniture looked expensive enough to belong in a museum.

Yet none of it felt personal.

Nothing in this room belonged to me.

Not really.

I was a guest.

A wife.

A prisoner.

Some days I wasn't entirely sure which one.

My gaze drifted toward the darkening horizon beyond the glass.

The isolated building I had seen earlier remained visible in the distance.

Barely.

The fading light transformed it into a shadow among shadows.

A place deliberately forgotten.

A place Silas hadn't mentioned.

My curiosity immediately returned.

The mansion was full of doors.

Every answer seemed hidden behind one.

And every answer appeared connected to the same thing.

The wives.

The thought made me move toward the window.

Outside, the white trees swayed beneath growing winds.

From above, they resembled thousands of pale bones reaching toward the sky.

Skeleton trees.

That was what I had started calling them in my head.

The sight should have looked beautiful.

Instead, it felt eerie.

Almost mournful.

As though the land itself remembered something terrible.

A knock interrupted my thoughts.

Soft.

Precise.

I stepped away from the window.

"Come in."

The door opened.

Mrs. Rose entered.

As always, her movements seemed unusually quiet. Years of service had apparently taught her how to cross a room without making a sound.

She carried herself with the same calm dignity she always possessed.

Yet tonight, something about her expression seemed heavier.

More thoughtful.

"Dinner is ready, Mrs. Vane."

The title still felt strange.

I doubted it ever wouldn't.

"Thank you."

Mrs. Rose nodded.

She turned to leave before hesitating.

Only briefly.

But I noticed.

The older woman rarely hesitated.

It immediately caught my attention.

"Is something wrong?"

For a moment, she remained silent.

Then her eyes moved toward the windows.

Toward the forest beyond.

Toward the distant darkness gathering around the estate.

"When the mansion begins asking questions," she said quietly, "be careful which answers you seek."

I blinked.

The statement took a second to process.

"What does that mean?"

A faint smile touched her lips.

Not amusement.

Something closer to sadness.

"If I knew the answer, Mrs. Vane, I would not still be here."

Then she left.

The door closed behind her.

Leaving me alone once again.

I stared after her.

Confusion mixed with growing frustration.

Everyone in this mansion spoke like that.

Half-truths.

Fragments.

Warnings disguised as riddles.

Sometimes I wondered if they enjoyed it.

Other times I suspected they were afraid.

And fear made much more sense.

Because the longer I stayed here, the more convinced I became that everyone was hiding something.

Including Silas.

Especially Silas.

The thought followed me downstairs.

Night had fully settled by the time I reached the dining room.

The room itself looked impressive enough to belong inside a palace.

A long black table occupied the center.

Soft lights reflected across polished surfaces.

Beyond the glass walls, darkness covered the cliffs and forest.

Only scattered lights from the estate interrupted the blackness.

The atmosphere felt elegant.

Controlled.

Almost sterile.

Silas was already there.

Of course he was.

He sat at the far end of the table, reviewing something on a transparent digital display floating above the surface.

The pale blue light illuminated sharp features and tired eyes.

For several seconds, he didn't notice me.

Or perhaps he pretended not to.

Sometimes it was difficult to tell.

The moment I entered, the display vanished.

Silas looked up.

His expression remained unreadable.

"You're late."

I almost rolled my eyes.

Almost.

The accusation wasn't even accurate.

"I didn't realize dinner came with a curfew."

A flicker appeared in his gaze.

Gone instantly.

Not quite amusement.

But close.

I took my seat.

Servants began placing dishes on the table.

The meal looked expensive.

Everything in this mansion looked expensive.

And yet the silence between us somehow overshadowed everything else.

I studied Silas while pretending not to.

The dark suit.

The controlled posture.

The permanent distance he placed between himself and everyone around him.

He looked exactly like the man the city feared.

The Eraser.

A billionaire capable of making problems disappear.

Yet the longer I spent around him, the harder it became to connect that reputation to reality.

Not because he seemed kind.

He didn't.

Not exactly.

But something felt incomplete about the image people had built around him.

Like I was seeing only part of the story.

Eventually I spoke.

"Who is Marcellus Vane?"

The reaction was immediate.

Small.

But immediate.

His gaze sharpened.

The room seemed colder.

"I've heard the name before," I continued. "Today I found a portrait."

Silas set down his glass.

The movement was controlled.

Too controlled.

The kind of control that suggested effort.

"My brother."

The answer surprised me.

Not because of what he said.

Because he answered at all.

"You have a brother?"

"Yes."

That single word ended the conversation.

Or attempted to.

I wasn't ready to let it.

"Where is he?"

A pause followed.

Not long.

Just long enough.

"Traveling."

I watched him carefully.

Something about the answer felt incomplete.

Not necessarily false.

Incomplete.

"Will I meet him?"

His gaze remained fixed on mine.

For a brief moment, something unreadable passed through his expression.

Then it disappeared.

"You already have."

The words struck harder than expected.

I frowned.

"What?"

Silas leaned back slightly.

"He attended the wedding."

Memory immediately surfaced.

Faces.

Guests.

Strangers.

The ceremony itself had happened during one of the most chaotic moments of my life.

I barely remembered half the people present.

Yet something about his answer unsettled me.

Because if Marcellus had been there, why hadn't anyone introduced him properly?

Why had I only discovered his existence through an old portrait?

Questions multiplied instantly.

Unfortunately, so did the third rule.

No questions.

The rule lingered between us like an invisible wall.

I hated it.

The more secrets I uncovered, the more impossible it became to obey.

Dinner continued.

Conversation did not.

The silence stretched comfortably for Silas.

For me, it became torture.

By the time the meal ended, my curiosity felt unbearable.

I returned to my room afterward.

Sleep refused to come.

Hours passed.

The mansion grew quieter.

The darkness deepened.

And eventually, sometime after midnight, I found myself standing beside the window again.

The isolated building remained visible.

A single light glowed near its entrance.

Tiny.

Distant.

Impossible to ignore.

My pulse quickened.

Common sense told me to stay inside.

To wait.

To stop chasing mysteries that clearly wanted to remain hidden.

But curiosity had carried me this far already.

And every important discovery I had made began with a decision to ignore common sense.

The thought lingered.

Growing stronger.

Until finally I stepped away from the window.

Grabbed a jacket.

And moved toward the door.

Perhaps I only intended to look.

Perhaps I intended something else.

I wasn't entirely sure.

What I did know was that the mansion had spent days feeding my curiosity.

And tonight, curiosity was winning.

The hallway beyond my room stood empty.

Silent.

Dark.

I moved carefully.

The west wing slept beneath soft pools of artificial light.

Each step seemed louder than it should have been.

Yet nobody appeared.

No servants.

No guards.

No interruptions.

The deeper I moved into the mansion, the stronger an uncomfortable sensation became.

The feeling that something was watching.

Not a person.

Something older.

The same awareness I had felt earlier near the west wing corridor.

It followed me again now.

Invisible.

Patient.

Waiting.

I reached the main level.

The enormous glass walls reflected fragments of moonlight into the darkness.

Outside, the white forest stretched endlessly.

The distant structure waited beyond it.

Silent.

Mysterious.

Forbidden.

And for reasons I couldn't explain, I felt certain that whatever answers I sought would eventually lead there.

Maybe not tonight.

But soon.

Very soon.

Then a voice emerged from the darkness behind me.

Low.

Calm.

Dangerously close.

"You should be asleep."

Every muscle in my body froze.

I turned sharply.

Silas stood several feet away.

Watching me.

Watching everything.

And judging from the look in his eyes, he already knew exactly where I had been planning to go.