Sleep never came.
By morning, Ariana was restless, her mind cycling through fragments—Evelyn's threat, Adrian's touch, the shadow in the window. Nothing made sense.
She needed answers.
So she went where secrets lived: the basement.
The mansion's basement was off-limits. Adrian had made that clear from the beginning.
But off-limits only made it more suspicious.
She found the door behind the kitchen, hidden behind a narrow pantry shelf. Old stairs led downward, each creaking step swallowed in darkness.
She switched on her phone flashlight.
Dust. Old furniture. A wine rack.
And then… a locked door at the far end.
She crouched, examining the panel. It was newer than the rest of the basement—reinforced. Someone had wanted it sealed.
And yet, right above the handle, the wood had been scratched. Like someone—or something—had once tried to claw their way out.
Ariana shivered.
Suddenly—
"Ariana?"
She jumped, turning fast.
Adrian stood at the top of the stairs, fury in his eyes. "What are you doing down here?"
"I—I was looking for answers," she said. "Why is this door locked? What's behind it?"
He stormed down the steps and positioned himself between her and the door.
"You're not allowed down here."
"That's not an answer."
His jaw flexed. "You promised to stay out of this."
"I don't remember making that promise," she shot back.
His eyes flared. And then, to her surprise, the fire faded. His voice dropped.
"There are things you don't want to remember, Ariana."
She stepped closer. "Try me."
But he didn't respond. He only stared at her, eyes full of ghosts.
Finally, he whispered, "This isn't just about you and me anymore."
"What is it about then?" she pressed.
But he didn't answer.
Instead, he locked the door again. "Stay out of the basement. For your own safety."
Later that night, she sat on her bed, holding the wedding photo she'd found—the one they looked happy in.
She turned it over.
This time, she noticed faint writing in the corner, almost faded:
"For A. — Always. Even if we forget."
Her breath caught.
Was it his handwriting?
She grabbed her phone, zoomed in.
Just below the writing, scratched into the frame itself, were two letters:
EB.
Evelyn Blackwood?
No… Evelyn's last name wasn't Blackwood.
Unless…
Ariana stood up fast, heart racing.
Unless she used to be married to Adrian.
And Ariana wasn't just the replacement fiancée—
She was the second wife.
But then—
Who was the first?