Jennifer ran barefoot down the corridor, her breath breaking unevenly in her throat as the marble amplified every step. The house felt too large, too still.
She rounded the corner into the foyer and stopped.
Empty.
The front door was closed. The air felt untouched.
"Sir?" she called, quieter than she intended.
No answer.
A spike of cold panic tightened her chest. She turned sharply and retraced her steps to the master suite. The door remained half-open.
Inside, nothing had changed. Her mother was slumped against the window, pale and unmoving. Helena lay face-down on the carpet, one arm stretched toward nothing.
The room smelled of sweat, perfume, and something metallic beneath it.
But he wasn't there.
Her pulse jumped.
Jennifer pivoted and headed for the stairs, moving faster now, the slick warmth between her thighs making her steps uneven. The reminder of what she'd done on the terrace sent a flash of heat through her stomach.
At the top of the staircase, she froze.
