In the heart of Ravensbrook, where shadows whisper secrets, Anne is about to uncover a mystery that's been buried for centuries.
Leading a project to transform a 100 years old mansion into a luxurious hotel, Anne's days should be filled with bluepri...
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"Your idea for the red velvet and black silk drapings is pure genius, Lara. Fantastic job. Now, get in touch with Mr. Tom Robinson; he'll handle the materials and applications," I said, taking a sip of coffee, the bitterness grounding me as dust clung to my body like a cheap suit I couldn't shake off. It had been four days since I was discharged, and I still hadn't taken a proper rest. We had just two weeks left to transform the mansion's main hall into something presentable for the party. The ancient, decayed parts had been ripped away, leaving us scrambling to install the finishing touches. I hadn't seen a shower in two days, and silently, I thanked whatever gods were listening that David was out of town, getting invitations ready for his rich friends who'd be attending the party. At least he wouldn't see me looking like death warmed over.
I worked like a goddamn dog, barely slept, and ate even less. Honestly, I looked like a walking corpse, strung out on the chaos that had become my life. Josh gave me one of those annoying sideways glances as I lit a cigarette, the flame trembling slightly in the cold. He hated smoking, and I knew it, but the pain in my arms and the chaos in my mind screamed for nicotine like a junkie on his last hit. That whole "incident" with Erick kept replaying in my head, like a horror movie you can't stop watching, no matter how much it freaks you out. Questions crawled in my brain like spiders, uninvited and impossible to ignore. The truth was, I was terrified to close my eyes, half-expecting to see the Noctaris lurking in the shadows. How crazy was it that I believed Erick without a second thought? I didn't even play the skeptical protagonist card like in those cheesy horror flicks. But deep down, I always knew something was watching me. I just thought it was part of being the psychotic, bipolar Anne Gilbert.
"I think you really should rest; everything's moving smoothly," Josh said, eyeing me up and down with a smirk that was halfway between concern and 'you're a hot mess.'
"If you don't stop looking at me like I'm a wet dog, I'll make you smell my armpit," I shot back, mock anger painting my voice. He raised his hands in surrender, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Seriously, though, if you feel obliged to come every day, why not just stay here? It's a long commute. Some rooms are already finished, and David said we could use them. Some of the staff are already sleeping here; it's more cost-effective," Josh added.
Lara chimed in. "I've been staying here for a fortnight now, and I'm the only woman. It'd be nice to have some company. The room I'm in has two beds, and I've got spare clothes. You don't need to go back," she offered.
"Thanks, Lara. You're an angel," I replied, but my head was already swirling. As I watched the cigarette smoke curl into the air, a flash of memory struck—my mother and sister, buried beneath the rubble. Yes, I had a sister. But her name... what was her name? Why couldn't I remember? The world spun faster, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Anne, are you okay?" Josh asked, his eyes wide with concern at my sudden change. I shook my head, fumbling for the panic attack medication in my pocket. I swallowed it dry, mumbling some excuse before heading inside the mansion, desperate to hide my trembling.
