Chapter 2: The Smell That Didn't Belong
Gerald led me to the boys' wing without a word.
The moment he opened the door, that smell hit me again.
Sweeter here.
Stronger.
Marcus and Mason were in matching beds, pale and still in a way no six-year-old should ever be.
Their eyes opened when I stepped in.
Tired eyes.
Old eyes.
Hi, I said softly.
I'm Sarah.
The one on the left — Marcus — pointed at the vent above his bed.
That thing hums at night, he whispered.
It wakes us up.
I looked up.
The ventilation grate was new.
The screws were bright, unscratched.
In a house this old, that made no sense.
I pulled a chair over and stood on it.
Gerald's voice came sharp from the doorway.
Miss Mitchell.
That's not your concern.
I stepped down slowly and said nothing.
But I'd already seen enough.
A faint dark residue along the inner edge of the duct.
Not dust.
Not mold.
Something deliberate.
That evening, I found Dr.
Ashford in the corridor outside the boys' room.
He was on his phone, voice low.
The timeline needs to hold, he said.
Another few weeks and it won't matter who asks questions.
He turned and saw me.
His face went completely still.
How long have you been standing there?
Long enough, I said.
He stepped closer.
His voice dropped to almost nothing.
You should be very careful, Miss Mitchell.
This family has enemies you know nothing about.
And accidents happen — even inside mansions.
I held his gaze and didn't move.
May you like
Behind me, I heard small footsteps.
Mason was standing in the doorway of his room, watching us both.
