ORLANDA'S breath came in shallow gasps as she watched Carlson stride purposefully into the garden. Walking in like a dark shadow against the sunlit beauty of the place, his every step deliberate, his eyes fixed solely on her, a smirk on his face. The sight of him here, in Oswald's mansion, felt like a nightmare come to life.

The shears she had been holding fell from her hand, landing in the soft soil with a dull thud. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest like a drum. Instinctively, she took a step back, her gaze darting around the garden, scanning for an escape route.

But how was she gonna escape?...