Elena’s POV

The Song family residence had never felt this quiet.

Even the ticking of the antique clock on the wall sounded too loud, echoing through the vast hall like a countdown I hadn’t agreed to hear. I stood near the window, my fingers curling and uncurling unconsciously as the dim lights cast elongated shadows across the marble floor. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was oppressive, as though something terrible had already happened and the house itself was holding its ...