Chapter 2 - THE GHOST AT THE DOOR
The lock clicked. Heavy footsteps echoed in the foyer. Emily gripped Lily tightly, pulling her back. Thomas stepped in front of the hidden passage, shielding little Sophie. I grabbed the hammer I had used to break the wall. “Ryan,” Emily whispered, her voice trembling. “Don’t do anything reckless.” A figure stepped into the hallway light. It wasn’t a stranger. It was my mother, Patricia. She looked impeccable, as always. Her silver hair perfectly styled, her cashmere coat pristine. But her eyes were cold. Behind her stood a man. He was my height. My build. But his face was heavily scarred on the left side, pulling his skin into a permanent, tragic grimace. I stared at him. Beneath the scars, the resemblance was undeniable. He had my eyes. “Hello, Ryan,” the man said. His voice was gravelly, broken. My mother stepped forward, her gaze locking onto the dark hole in the wall, then settling on Thomas. “I told you not to open it, Ryan,” she said smoothly. “Thomas has thoroughly confused you.” “Who is he?” I demanded, pointing the hammer at the scarred man. “He’s nobody,” my mother snapped. The man stepped out from behind her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, tarnished silver compass. My breath caught. It was the compass my father gave me when I was seven. The one I lost the day I broke my arm. “I’m Michael,” the man said quietly. “And I’ve come for my daughter.”
