Richard locked the study with a firm click and headed straight to his master bedroom.

As he entered the bedroom, he halted. There she was.

Annabelle stood motionless in the middle of the room, staring into space like she was lost between worlds. Her gaze roamed over the pristine white decor—the ornate furniture, polished marble, crisp curtains, and silver-lined shelves. Something about it hit her hard. There was pain in her eyes, like an old wound being prodded open. A memory hovered just ...