CHAPTER 3 — The Locked Cellar
The mansion finally grew quiet after midnight.
The guests had retired.
The orchestra had stopped playing.
Only the distant ticking of an antique grandfather clock echoed through the marble halls.
Mother and daughter slipped from their guest suite barefoot.
Every security camera seemed to follow them.
They found the hidden wine cellar beneath the mansion exactly where the text had instructed.
The heavy wooden door creaked open.
Someone was already waiting.
The old butler.
"I don't have much time," he whispered.
"You sent the message?"
He nodded.
"My son worked for Mr. Blackwood."
The charming host.
"He discovered something."
The old man's eyes filled with regret.
"They poisoned wealthy guests... slowly."
The daughter gasped.
"They targeted widows. Business partners. Anyone whose fortune could be transferred after an unexpected illness."
The butler reached into an old wooden crate.
Inside were dozens of medical files.
Death certificates.
Insurance policies.
Copies of wills.
Every victim had supposedly died of natural causes.
The mother felt cold.
"This isn't murder..."
"It's an industry."
Suddenly—
Footsteps.
Heavy.
May you like
Fast.
Someone was coming downstairs.
