The estate was no longer just a home. It had become a labyrinth of memory, desire, and revelation. Carson led Justina down a corridor she had never noticed before, a narrow passage tucked behind a bookcase in the grand library. Dust danced in the dim light spilling from the sconces, and the air carried the faint scent of old parchment, smoke, and something darker, something familiar.

“This passage,” Carson said softly, fingers tracing the intricate woodwork of the hidden door, “was ...