Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Basement
The air inside the east wing was freezing and smelled of strong antiseptic.
Elena ran down the dark corridor, her pristine white dress dragging across the dusty floorboards. At the very end of the hall, tucked beneath a descending staircase, was a heavy steel door.
Not a guest room door. A prison door.
Through a small, reinforced glass window, Elena looked inside. A frail woman with gray hair sat in a solitary chair, staring blankly at the far wall.
Elena gasped, pressing her hands against the cold glass. "Mom?" she choked out.
The woman slowly turned her head. Her dull eyes suddenly widened with absolute disbelief. She stood up, her hands trembling as she rushed to the door, pressing her palms against the glass exactly where Elena’s were.
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"Elena," her mother mouthed soundlessly, tears instantly streaming down her pale face.
She was alive. Ten years of mourning. Ten years of visiting a fake grave. All while her mother was locked away just hundreds of feet from her own bedroom.
