Chapter 3The Walnut Legacy

A moment later, a text from Charlotte came through.

【Did you find it? Do you like it?】

Then another.

【Leo, why aren’t you answering?】

【Are you mad that I had to leave? I’m so sorry, baby. It’s my fault. I’ll finish up here as fast as I can and come right back to you.】

【Leo, believe me. No one in this world loves you more than I do.】

I read the messages, and shame burned in my gut. How could I even be doubting her?

I took a deep breath, tossed the walnut shell and the note into the trash can, and decided to forget the whole thing.

But as I turned to leave, a flicker of movement in the mirror caught my eye. In the reflection, behind me, stood a blurry, dark figure.

I spun around.

There was nothing there.

A cold sweat instantly soaked through my shirt. My heart hammered against my ribs. Was I losing my mind?

I forced myself to look back at the mirror.

In the reflection, my own face was twisting, my lips pulling back into a grotesque, silent smile as it mouthed two words at me:

Smash. It.

A scream tore from my throat, and I stumbled backward, collapsing to the floor.

No. This wasn't a hallucination.

My grandpa was never wrong.

I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the chair from the vanity, and with every ounce of strength in my body, I swung it at the mirror.

CRASH!

The glass exploded, showering the room in a cascade of glittering shards.

Behind the mirror, there was no gift.

It was a two-way mirror.

And behind the glass was a small, hidden room, no bigger than a closet.

A man was tied to a chair, a gag stuffed in his mouth. His body was covered in blood, and he was long past breathing. His eyes were wide open, staring straight in my direction, his face a frozen mask of absolute terror.

My legs gave out. I collapsed, bile rising in my throat as I threw up all over the expensive rug. I crawled out of the bedroom, my hands shaking so violently I could barely dial 911.

The fear was a physical thing, a fist squeezing my heart, making it impossible to form a complete sentence.

“Hello… 911… there’s been a murder… in my house… there’s a dead man…”

The operator on the other end was calm, her voice a steady anchor as she talked me down and confirmed my address.

Soon, the sound of sirens grew from a distant wail to a deafening roar outside. The first patrol car arrived, and the officers who came in turned pale when they saw the scene in the hidden room. They immediately secured the perimeter and called it in to the city desk.

It wasn’t long before a team of detectives in dark, severe suits arrived.

The person leading them was tall, with a commanding presence and a face that was as beautiful as it was cold.

It was the nightmare I had been running from for three years.

Maya.