She exhaled slowly, reading the words again. Ethan Sinclair. The name alone was enough to drag her back to a past she'd spent years trying to outrun. The man who once stood as a reluctant heir to a family that thrived on wealth, deception, and manipulation. The man she had never quite figured out.
She should have ignored the letter. She should have crumpled it up, tossed it into the bin, and let the ghosts of Blackwood Manor remain undisturbed. But Amelia had always been reckless when it came to two things-chasing a good mystery and Ethan Sinclair.
That night, she packed her bags.
---
The journey to Blackwood Manor was drenched in shadows. The long, winding roads leading to the estate were lined with towering trees, their skeletal branches clawing at the night sky. The further she drove, the more the city lights faded behind her, leaving only the dim glow of her headlights and the oppressive silence of the countryside.
The last time she had been here, she was eighteen. She still remembered the whispers at her back, the sharp glances from the Sinclair matriarch, and the way the grand halls of the estate seemed to swallow her whole.
Now, Blackwood Manor loomed before her like a relic from a gothic novel-tall spires, ivy-clad walls, and windows so dark they looked like gaping mouths. The iron gates groaned as they opened for her, and the moment she stepped out of the car, the air was thick with something unspoken.
"Miss Graves," a voice called, snapping her out of her thoughts.
She turned to see Ethan.
The years had changed him, but not by much. He still had that signature unshaken confidence, the way he stood like the world bent to him rather than the other way around. His dark hair was a little longer now, carelessly styled as if he couldn't be bothered to smooth it down. His sharp jawline was dusted with the shadow of a beard, and his piercing gray eyes studied her with an unreadable expression.
"You came," he said, the corner of his mouth curving slightly.
Amelia forced herself to hold his gaze. "I'm a journalist. I don't turn down a story."
His smirk deepened. "Is that all this is to you? A story?"
"What else would it be?" she challenged.
Ethan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence unmistakable even in the open air. "Come inside. You'll want to hear this."
---
The interior of Blackwood Manor was just as she remembered-ornate chandeliers casting dim golden light, dark wooden floors stretching into endless corridors, and portraits of long-dead Sinclairs staring down at her with hollow eyes.
"Still as dramatic as ever," she muttered, her voice echoing through the grand foyer.
Ethan chuckled. "You always did have a way with words."
He led her through the halls, past closed doors that whispered of secrets she hadn't yet uncovered. When they reached the study, Ethan pushed open the heavy oak doors, revealing a room lined with bookshelves and a grand fireplace crackling with warmth.
"Drink?" he offered, already reaching for a decanter.
"No." Amelia crossed her arms. "Just tell me why I'm here."
Ethan poured himself a glass of whiskey anyway, taking a slow sip before turning to her. "You remember my father's death."
It wasn't a question.
Amelia's fingers twitched. "It was ruled an accident."
"You and I both know it wasn't."
She inhaled sharply. "Ethan-"
"I have proof," he interrupted, stepping closer. "There are things you don't know, Amelia. Things my family has spent decades trying to bury. And now, someone's making sure those secrets never see the light of day."
A chill ran down her spine. "You think someone killed your father?"
Ethan's jaw tightened. "I know they did."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy and crackling with something unspoken. Then Amelia took a step forward, her pulse quickening.
"What exactly do you want from me?" she asked, her voice softer now.
Ethan studied her for a long moment before finally saying, "Help me uncover the truth."
Amelia should have said no. She should have turned around and walked away. But she didn't.
Because despite every warning sign, despite the way her past and Ethan Sinclair always led to disaster-she wanted the truth just as badly as he did.
And that was how it all began.
---
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