The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and the town of Greystone, with its tired, cobbled streets and weathered facades, seemed to sink deeper into the silence of the night. Alice had no idea how many hours had passed since she returned to her home, but exhaustion gnawed at her as she walked up the steps to her front door. The events of the day had left her feeling off-kilter, her mind racing with questions she couldn't seem to answer. Ashford House, the strange town, and now... the feeling that something was closing in on her, step by step.

  She fumbled with her keys, her hand trembling slightly, as though the weight of the unknown was suddenly too much to bear. The familiar creak of the door as it swung open brought her little comfort. The house was as quiet as ever—too quiet. The light was still on in her study, where she had been going through David’s research earlier that morning. But as she stepped inside, something didn’t feel right.

  The air felt thicker, denser, and Alice had the unmistakable sensation that she wasn’t alone. She hesitated in the doorway, scanning the dark corners of the room. The shadows seemed deeper tonight, the darkness more oppressive. But she saw nothing. No movement, no figure lurking in the periphery of her vision. Still, her pulse quickened, and an icy sense of dread crept up her spine.

  She stepped further into the house, closing the door behind her. The light in the study flickered momentarily, and for a moment, Alice considered going back out the way she came. But there was no turning back. She had already gone too far, dug too deep into the town’s buried secrets. And there was no retreating now. Whatever she had uncovered, whatever she had started, would not be left unfinished.

  She reached the study and pushed open the door. The sight that met her eyes stopped her cold.

  The desk where David had sat was overturned. Papers—his notes, his research, everything she had spent hours pouring over—lay scattered across the floor in disarray. Bookshelves had been ripped open, their contents spilled onto the floor like broken promises. The once neatly organized room now looked like the aftermath of a violent storm.

  But there was something far worse than the mess. Something far more disturbing.

  In the middle of the chaos, on top of the scattered papers, lay a single piece of paper. Its stark white surface glowed against the darkness of the room, a contrast so sharp it sent a shiver through Alice. She stepped forward, her breath caught in her throat, as she crouched to pick it up.

  The note was simple, hastily written, but the words seemed to burn into her mind:

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Leave the past buried, or you’ll join him."

  Her heart skipped a beat, the blood draining from her face as her hand trembled, the note now clutched tightly in her fingers. Her breath became shallow, as if the weight of the words was pressing down on her chest. She had suspected—feared—that the town had something to hide. But this... this was different. This was a warning.

  Her thoughts swirled, racing in a dozen different directions. Who would do something like this? Who would dare threaten her after what had happened to David? The death of her husband—the fact that his investigation into Ashford House had led him to a dark and untimely end—had already shattered her life in ways she hadn’t thought possible. And now, someone was trying to silence her, to keep her from learning the truth.

  Alice’s breath hitched as the fear coursed through her veins, but her resolve hardened with it. She couldn’t let fear control her, not now. Whoever had done this, whoever had left this note, they underestimated her. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know what she was capable of when it came to protecting David’s memory—and uncovering the truth that had cost him his life.

  She stood there in the study, clutching the note tightly in her fist, her mind racing. Should she call the police? No, that would only draw more attention, more eyes on her. The last thing she needed right now was to make her investigation public. She couldn’t trust anyone in this town—not after everything she had learned. And certainly not after the cryptic warning left in her home.

  A sudden sound behind her—soft, like the creak of a floorboard—made her freeze. She whipped around, expecting to see someone standing in the doorway. But once again, the room was empty. Her pulse pounded in her ears, the air thick with the feeling that she was being watched.

  Was it just her imagination? Has the fear already begun to erode her sense of reality? Or was there someone in the house? Someone who didn’t want her to know the truth?

  Alice forced herself to breathe, to calm the panic clawing at her chest. She had to think rationally. Whoever had broken into her house had left a message. A threat. It was clear that they were trying to intimidate her, to frighten her into abandoning her search for answers. But Alice wasn’t someone who could be easily scared. Not after everything she had been through.

  The message was a sign—a sign that she was on the right track. The town had secrets. Dangerous, terrible secrets. And whoever was trying to stop her from uncovering them would go to any lengths to protect them.

  But Alice had no intention of backing down. She wouldn’t let fear control her actions. Not now. Not ever.

  That night, as Alice lay in bed, sleep refused to come. Her mind kept racing, replaying every event of the day. The strange encounter with Hannah, the cryptic warning, and the growing realization that her husband’s death had not been an accident. There was something much darker at play, and Alice was standing on the precipice of something terrible.

  As she tossed and turned, trying to force sleep to come, she felt a chill settle in the air. The room seemed colder, the shadows longer than before. And then, just as she was drifting into the faintest sliver of sleep, she saw it.

  In the corner of the room, David stood. His figure was ghostly, pale, and translucent, but unmistakable. His eyes were locked onto hers, his face expressionless. His lips moved, but no sound came. He was speaking, or trying to speak, but Alice could hear nothing.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she sat up in bed, gasping for breath. The figure of David faded away as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Alice breathless and trembling. She was alone again. But the dream—was it a dream?—felt too real, too vivid to dismiss as a figment of her imagination.

  David was trying to tell her something. His silent plea echoed in her mind as she lay back down, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

  She had to follow him.

  The next morning, Alice felt a renewed sense of determination. The note, the warning—it was all part of the puzzle. Someone in Greystone wanted her to stop, but Alice knew that she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. The truth was out there, and she would find it, no matter the cost.