Chapter 1
Three hours until I lost custody of my daughter, and Richard’s lawyer was already pressuring me to hand over the keys to the estate. I scrubbed frantically at the charred soot at the bottom of the fireplace with a wire brush, desperate to find the proof of his affair he’d hidden "this morning." The lawyer sneered at my futile efforts, completely blind to the fact that as the dirt peeled away, it wasn’t fresh ash I was uncovering—it was the carbonized layer from a fire that had burned two thousand years ago.
"Evelyn, stop this ridiculous behavior." Vincent’s bespoke Oxfords thudded dully against the Persian rug, a maddening sound. "Mr. Sterling has offered you one last shred of dignity. Sign this sole custody surrender agreement, and you’ll walk away with a $5 million settlement. Otherwise, in three hours, the judge will rule you mentally unfit, and you’ll lose even your visitation rights."
I ignored him. The stiff bristles of my brush shrieked against the firebricks at the base of the hearth. "He lit a fire here this morning," I rasped, my eyes locked on the dark red embers wedged between the bricks. "He hid something. Photos of that bitch, or the access keys to an offshore account to hide our marital assets... it's right down there."
Vincent let out an unmasked scoff. "Evelyn, the fireplaces at Blackwood Estate haven't been used in a decade. Mr. Sterling flew to Zurich at six a.m. today. He didn't even eat breakfast at home, so what do you mean he 'lit a fire this morning'?"
"You're lying!" I whipped my head around, kicking up a choking cloud of dust. Vincent stepped back in disgust, pressing a handkerchief to his nose and mouth. "The security footage doesn't lie. Your paranoia is severely impacting Lily's life, which is exactly why Mr. Sterling is filing for sole custody."
I gritted my teeth, my knuckles turning white from gripping the brush too hard. No, I wasn't crazy. I clearly remembered the crackling from the fireplace when I woke up this morning. I had even smelled that scent that always clung to Richard—a crisp blend of cold cedar and rust. He had stood before the flames, his back as rigid as stone. When he turned to look at me, those usually fathomless dark eyes had held an eerie, molten-gold glow.
"Hand over the keys." Vincent checked his watch. "Security is already waiting outside. You don't want Lily to see her mother dragged out like a lunatic, do you?"
At the mention of my daughter, my heart clenched as if gripped by a massive, freezing hand. But I couldn't stop. If I could just find the proof that Richard was at fault, that ruthless prenup would be rendered useless, and I could win Lily back.
I tossed aside the broken brush and started clawing at the clumped soot with my bare hands. "You've lost your mind!" Vincent scowled.
The second my fingertips touched the ash, a searing pain shot straight up my nerves. It was scorching hot. This wasn’t dead ash that had cooled for ten years; the temperature was as if a blazing fire had just been extinguished minutes ago. But I didn't pull back. The pain kept me grounded. I dug frantically through the carbonized wood, blood seeping from the edges of my nails and mixing into the black ash.
"Richard is a control freak," I muttered neurotically as I dug. "He controls the family empire, the trust funds, he even controls how many vitamins I take every day. He wouldn't leave a loose end unless... unless he wanted me to see it."
"You need to get your paranoia treated," Vincent said coldly. "Mr. Sterling has been more than generous to you. Even though you've done nothing but play the trophy wife for three years, he still maintains your lavish lifestyle. What makes you think he’d cheat?"
"Because he can't touch me!" My voice spiked, tears splashing into the ash pile. "Three years, Vincent! He has never touched me! He looks at me like I'm fragile porcelain, or like I'm a bomb about to go off! What normal husband treats his wife like that?"
Vincent was silent for two seconds. When he spoke, his tone was softer, yet far more cruel. "Evelyn, that’s your psychological issue. Mr. Sterling submitted your medical records to the judge. You are resistant to physical intimacy and prone to severe hallucinations."
"Hallucinations?" I let out a bitter laugh, plunging my hands deep into the ash. Right then, my fingertips brushed against something hard with a sharp edge.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I yanked it out. It was a charred fragment of metal, still attached to a half-burnt strip of leather. It was irregularly shaped, like a pendant or a badge that had been melted by extreme heat.
"Look! What is this?" I held up the fragment like a lifeline. "He burned it this morning! It has to belong to that woman! He got spooked and tried to cover his tracks!"
Vincent narrowed his eyes and leaned in for a look, staring at me like I was a hopeless clown. "A piece of rusted scrap metal. Evelyn, this house was built in the nineteenth century. That’s probably just some trash a previous tenant dropped in the fireplace. Can't you tell the difference between proof of an affair and literal garbage?"
"What do you know!" I gripped the metal tightly, its sharp edge slicing into my palm. Strangely, I didn't feel the pain. Instead, as my blood seeped into the charred metal, a deeply guttural, primal wolf howl exploded in my mind.
It didn’t sound like it was heard through my ears; it resonated directly inside my skull. Immediately following it was a man’s heavy, raspy panting, thick with the metallic scent of blood. *"...Don't look back, Eve... survive..."*
I froze, cold sweat instantly soaking through my silk blouse. "Did you hear that?" I snapped my head up to look at Vincent.
"Hear what? Your panting is loud enough to echo through the whole house." Vincent pulled out his phone impatiently. "I'm calling security. You have five minutes left."
He hadn't heard it. Only I did. That voice... it was Richard's. But I swore, Richard had never called me by my name in that tone. He always called me "Evelyn," with that impeccable, polished elegance typical of the old money elite. But the voice just now had called me "Eve," laced with a near-death desperation and a bone-deep devotion.
"Eve..." I murmured the unfamiliar syllable, my heart suddenly hammering out of control. Not out of fear, but from a bizarre, soul-deep resonance. My body temperature spiked rapidly, and the edges of my vision began to bleed into a faint crimson.
"Put that down, Evelyn." Noticing my strange state, Vincent stepped forward, reaching to snatch the metal fragment from my hand.
