Three years ago, Alex Langford—darling of Wall Street, devoted husband, and perfect father—vanished without a trace. No note. No body. Just a half-empty closet, a crimson stain beneath the nursery rug, and the distinct, echoing sense that something was terribly wrong.

Now, the Langford estate sits like a glass coffin on the hill—pristine, polished, and rotting from the inside.

Ava Langford still lives there.

Wrapped in designer silk and sprayed with perfume that never fades, Ava drifts through the house like a dream that refuses to end. She laughs too sweetly. Cries when no one’s watching. And smothers her only remaining lifeline—her 17-year-old son Adrien—with love so intense it feels like a noose.

She kisses his forehead six times before bed. Waits outside his school in a Rolls-Royce every day. Tucks him in. Feeds him dinner like he’s still a child.

Adrien—tall, cold, adored—is unraveling.
The school calls him brilliant. His mother calls him “my baby.”
He doesn’t call her anything at all.

But the glass is cracking.

Someone walks the halls at night. Doors open when no one touches them. There’s a man in the security footage—one with Alex’s eyes, but not his smile. A forgotten journal turns up in Adrien’s room, scrawled with ink and obsession. And beneath the floorboards, something is ticking.

Everyone says Alex left. But Ava remembers that night.
She remembers the knock at the glass.
The way the lights went out.
The man in love with her who should never have been let in.

I felt it the moment the clock hit 4:17 p.m.—the exact minute Adrien should've walked through the front door, dropped his bag, and muttered something sarcastic before heading to his room.


I tried calling. Once. Twice. Straight to voicemail.


I told myself it was nothing. That his phone must've died. That maybe he'd stopped to get food.


I told myself that until the sun dipped behind the trees and my hands started to shake.


By 5:00 p.m., I had the entire household staff searching. By 5:20, I was screaming into the phone, demanding the school security review camera footage. By 6:00, I had called the police.


The Langford estate had always been too big, but now it felt like it was swallowing me whole. Every room was colder. Every hallway emptier. The walls didn't echo with laughter or footsteps anymore—only silence. Suffocating silence.


I was curled on the floor of his room, holding his hoodie to my face like it could anchor me, when I felt arms wrap around my shoulders.


"Ava," Nolan said softly, pulling me against him. "I'm so sorry."


He rocked me gently, whispering things I didn't hear. Useless words. Fake comfort. His voice, too calm. Too smooth. Too steady.


I pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes red and raw. "What if he's hurt? What if he's cold or scared or—"


"Hey. Shhh. He's strong. Just like you." He tucked my hair behind my ear. "We'll find him."


But beneath all the grief, something twisted inside me. A small whisper at the base of my spine. A chill that didn't come from the open window.


Because Nolan's hand lingered too long on my back.


Because his smile didn't quite match his eyes.


Because when I pulled away to stand up, he didn't look at the door or the phone.


He looked at Adrien's bed. The place where I used to sit and kiss my son's forehead goodnight.


And for the first time since I met Nolan Carter…


I wondered if he had been watching me far longer than I ever realized.


Chapter 12 - The Hollow