The entire Aldridge mansion felt frozen in place when Preston Aldridge, the famous real estate billionaire, stepped inside. He was used to seeing the place fully lit, the staff buzzing with energy, and his twins, Mikaelyn and Masonel, filling the halls with laughter. But tonight, everything felt wrong.
When he pushed the door open, only a few hallway lights flickered. The butler was nowhere to be seen. Not a single maid’s footsteps echoed. Worst of all, he couldn’t hear his twins at all. A man who knew every giggle and cry from his children instantly recognized that the silence was unnatural.
“Hello? Somebody here?” he called out.
Nothing. Not even a whisper.
He headed straight for the nursery, but halfway up the marble staircase, he caught a glimpse of a shadow drifting across the living room. He paused. His heartbeat wasn’t racing from fear, but from the eerie certainty that the quiet was hiding something.
He retraced his steps and moved toward the living room.
What he saw next made his whole world stop.
When he pushed the door open, only a few hallway lights flickered. The butler was nowhere to be seen. Not a single maid’s footsteps echoed. Worst of all, he couldn’t hear his twins at all. A man who knew every giggle and cry from his children instantly recognized that the silence was unnatural.
“Hello? Somebody here?” he called out.
Nothing. Not even a whisper.
He headed straight for the nursery, but halfway up the marble staircase, he caught a glimpse of a shadow drifting across the living room. He paused. His heartbeat wasn’t racing from fear, but from the eerie certainty that the quiet was hiding something.
He retraced his steps and moved toward the living room.
What he saw next made his whole world stop.
The sprawling estate of Preston Aldridge, a billionaire known throughout the country for transforming crumbling neighborhoods into thriving real estate districts, usually gleamed like a beacon after sunset. The structure sat on a rolling hill outside of Ravenshore, California, and its windows normally poured warm light across the grounds. The staff would be bustling, the air full of friendly chatter, and the laughter of his five year old twins, Mikaelyn and Masonel, would echo from the upper floor as they chased toys and invented games. That predictable glow was the comfort Preston clung to after endless business meetings and social events.
On this particular night, his driver guided the luxury sedan into the circular driveway and stepped out to open Preston’s door. Preston grabbed his coat, muttered a tired thank you, and walked toward the front entrance. He expected the brass handle to feel warm. He expected the smell of cinnamon from the kitchen. He expected everything to reassure him that he had come home.
The moment he pushed the door open, the illusion shattered.
Only the hallway sconces glimmered, and their light was feeble, as if hesitant to disturb the silence. The chandelier above the foyer remained dark. No footsteps tapped across the imported marble floors. Even the ticking of the antique clock seemed quieter than usual. Preston paused, one hand still holding the doorknob. The quiet pressed against his ears in a way that made his heartbeat sound enormous.
“Hello?” he called, forcing his voice to steady. “Is anyone here? Nora? James? Anyone?”
His words floated into the emptiness and vanished before they could echo.
Preston entered the mansion and set his keys on the side table. The air felt colder than it should have. He lifted his wrist to check the time and frowned. The twins should have been awake. Their bedtime routine always started with a story by the fireplace while their nanny, Annalise Corbyn, brushed their hair and prepared their pajamas.
He climbed the stairs slowly. Each step creaked faintly. He found his mind inventing scenarios. Perhaps the power partially went out. Perhaps the staff stepped away because of an emergency. He did not want to consider alternative explanations. He reached the second floor landing and turned toward the nursery.
Halfway down the corridor, he registered movement from below. A shadow shifted near the living room. It did not look like the usual flicker of passing headlights outside. It moved too deliberately.
Preston stopped moving. His chest tightened with instinct before thought could form. He inhaled, exhaled, and retraced his steps down the hallway.
He descended the staircase with careful quiet. On the last step, he looked toward the living room and felt his world tilt into fear.
