Rain hammered against the mansion windows.
Thunder rolled across the sky.
And for the first time—
I stood on Ashford property.
Not as a guest.
Not as a visitor.
As a threat.
The realization hit me the moment we crossed the outer wall.
Because everything about this place screamed control.
Perfect gardens.
Perfect lighting.
Perfect security.
Every detail carefully planned.
Just like Richard Ashford himself.
We moved quickly through the storm.
Staying close to the shadows.
Avoiding the main entrances.
Avoiding security patrols.
Adrian led the way.
Apparently, rich people knew far too much about other rich people.
"Service entrance."
He pointed toward a smaller building connected to the mansion.
"Less security."
"How do you know that?"
Adrian smirked.
"Because if I owned this place, that's where I'd make the mistake."
I wasn't sure if that was genius or insanity.
Possibly both.
Minutes later—
We were inside.
The mansion felt completely different from what I expected.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
No music.
No conversation.
No life.
Just tension.
The kind of tension that settles over a house before something terrible happens.
Elena checked her phone.
"No signal."
Of course.
Richard had probably shut down every communication system he controlled.
Which meant we were on our own.
A sudden noise echoed down the hallway.
Footsteps.
We immediately ducked behind a corner.
Two security guards passed.
Talking quietly.
"...still searching the east wing."
"...Mr. Ashford wants every room checked."
The voices faded.
I exchanged a look with Adrian.
East wing.
The same place she'd mentioned.
We moved again.
Faster now.
The mansion seemed endless.
Hallway after hallway.
Room after room.
Every step made my pulse race harder.
Because somewhere inside this house—
She was waiting.
And her father was hunting for the truth.
Eventually—
We reached the east wing.
The atmosphere changed immediately.
Dust.
Old paintings.
Unused furniture.
This part of the mansion felt forgotten.
Almost abandoned.
"Why doesn't anyone come here?"
I whispered.
Elena looked around slowly.
"Because this used to be Sophia's side of the house."
Silence.
That answer explained everything.
A section of the mansion untouched for years.
Ignored.
Avoided.
Like a memory Richard wanted buried.
Suddenly—
A door creaked open nearby.
All three of us froze.
Then—
A familiar voice.
"You're late."
I turned immediately.
And there she was.
Standing in the doorway.
Safe.
Relief hit me so hard it almost hurt.
For a second—
Neither of us moved.
Just stared.
Because after everything—
After weeks apart—
After fear.
After threats.
After uncertainty.
Seeing her felt unreal.
Then she smiled.
A small smile.
But genuine.
And suddenly—
Nothing else mattered.
I crossed the room without thinking.
Pulled her into my arms.
She hugged me back instantly.
Holding on tightly.
Like she was afraid I'd disappear.
Honestly—
I felt exactly the same.
"I missed you."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"I know."
For a moment—
The war disappeared.
The investigation disappeared.
Everything disappeared.
Just us.
Then reality returned.
She pulled away slightly.
"We don't have much time."
The seriousness in her voice immediately killed the moment.
"What happened?"
Her expression darkened.
"I found more than letters."
Every alarm bell in my head started ringing.
"What do you mean?"
Without answering—
She reached into her bag.
And removed a small leather journal.
Old.
Worn.
Hidden for years.
My pulse quickened.
"Whose is it?"
She looked down at the journal.
Then back at us.
"My mother's."
Silence.
Then—
A loud crash echoed somewhere deeper inside the mansion.
Everyone froze.
A voice followed.
Angry.
Furious.
Richard Ashford.
And he sounded closer than expected.
Much closer.
She gripped the journal tighter.
"He knows."
The words barely left her mouth before another shout echoed through the hall.
And this time—
There was no doubt.
He was coming.