Diane Lucas
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I didnt come to Thornridge to play detective. I came to escape-my past, my responsibilities, the endless nagging voice in my head telling me to "be reasonable." But this house? It has other plans. First, theres the piano that seems to play itself when no ones looking, as if the walls are trying to hum a forgotten tune. Then theres Julian-the maddeningly mysterious man with secrets buried deeper than the layers of dust on the family portraits. And lets not forget Eleanor, the woman whos been gone for years but still manages to haunt every shadowed corner of this crumbling estate. When I stumble upon a cache of old letters hidden in the fireplace, I realize Ive walked into more than a renovation project. Theres something dark here, lurking beneath the surface-memories that refuse to rest, secrets that bite harder than the winter wind. And somehow, Im at the center of it all. Id love to tell you Im handling it with grace, but lets be real: Im just trying not to fall off the edge. Literally.
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