Chapter 4

I don’t know how long I walk.

The mansion is endless, every hallway identical, every corridor stretching into the next, twisting and looping until I feel like I’m trapped in a labyrinth with no exit. My breath is uneven, my hands still shaking from Julian’s words.

"Because you begged me to take them, Ana. You said you couldn’t live with them."

The sentence plays over and over in my head, a loop I can’t shut off. I don’t believe it.

Why would I want to forget?

What could possibly be so terrible that I would rather erase myself than face it?

I push forward, my fingers trailing against the cold wooden walls, searching for something—**anything—**that feels familiar. But nothing does.

Not the grand chandeliers overhead, glowing with golden light.

Not the portraits of nameless figures staring back at me, their faces frozen in time.

Not the heavy rugs beneath my bare feet, muffling the sound of my movements.

I feel like a ghost in my own life.

I don’t know who I am.

I don’t know if I want to.

My pulse pounds as I turn another corner, finding myself in a small sitting room. It’s more intimate than the rest of the mansion—dark wood shelves line the walls, a fireplace crackles low in the corner, casting long shadows against the floor. The air smells of old books and something floral.

For some reason, the scent makes my throat tighten.

I step inside, drawn to the heavy wooden desk in the center of the room. It’s messy, unlike the rest of the house. Papers are scattered across the surface, ink bottles left open, a quill resting beside them. Whoever was last here—they were in a hurry.

I don’t know why that unsettles me.

I reach out, fingers brushing over the papers, scanning for something—**anything—**that might give me answers. But the pages are filled with words I don’t understand. Strange markings. Notes scribbled in elegant, looping handwriting that isn’t mine.

I exhale sharply. Nothing makes sense.

And then—

Something catches my eye.

A single folded letter, tucked beneath the mess.

My breath stalls. Unlike the others, this one is addressed to me.

Ana.

The handwriting is different from Julian’s.

A slow, uneasy feeling creeps into my spine. I hesitate, then pick up the letter, my hands shaking slightly as I unfold the delicate parchment.

I don’t know why my stomach clenches before I even read the words.

But the second I do—

The room tilts.

Run before it’s too late.

The ink is bold, rushed.

Like whoever wrote it was desperate.

My hands tighten around the letter. My heartbeat roars in my ears.

I read it again.

And again.

Run before it’s too late.

I swallow hard, my eyes scanning the page for more. But that’s it.

No name. No explanation.

Just a warning.

A sharp knock echoes from somewhere down the hall.

I freeze.

The letter crinkles in my grip as I spin toward the door, my breath catching in my throat.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured.

Coming closer.

My pulse hammers as I shove the letter into the pocket of the silk robe I’m wearing. I don’t know why I’m hiding it, but I do.

A shadow moves just outside the doorway.

I press myself against the desk, swallowing against the lump rising in my throat. The footsteps stop.

Silence.

For a moment, I wonder if I imagined it.

And then—

“Ana.”

I jump.

Julian.

His voice is just outside the door, calm and unreadable. But something about it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I inhale slowly, trying to steady myself before stepping into the doorway.

He’s there, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. His suit is slightly rumpled, like he’s been running his hands through his hair. His eyes flicker to me, sharp and assessing.

“You left your room,” he says. Not a question.

I force my shoulders to straighten. “I couldn’t sleep.”

His gaze lingers on me, like he’s trying to decide if that’s the truth. “You should be resting.”

“I needed air.”

A pause. His fingers twitch at his sides. “Did you find anything?”

My stomach clenches.

Does he know about the letter?

I grip the fabric of my robe, the parchment burning against my skin like a brand. I shake my head. “No.”

Julian exhales slowly, but he doesn’t look convinced. His eyes drift past me, into the study. “You were in here?”

I nod.

His jaw tightens slightly. “You shouldn’t be wandering alone.”

Something about the way he says it makes my chest tighten.

“I thought I was safe here,” I say carefully.

Julian’s lips press into a thin line. “You are.” A pause. “But that doesn’t mean you should go looking for things that don’t concern you.”

The words are gentle. But the warning underneath them is not.

A chill runs through me.

I force myself to hold his gaze. “What if they do concern me?”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

Then, finally—softly:

“Not yet.”

The words send a cold shiver down my spine.

Because I know, deep in my bones—

Julian is hiding something.

And someone else is trying to warn me.