CAMILLE'S POV

When eight struck, there was a knock on my door.

"Who is it?" I asked, staring at the door as the knob twisted open.

The apparel told me the nice-looking woman was a servant. "Luna Camille, dinner is ready. Would you be coming downstairs to eat, or should I bring the food to you?"

I shut the records of Victor Blossom. It wasn't going to give me any results since the pages had been ripped out of it.

I considered my options. Avoidance. It was the easier option. But for a reason, I ...