Margaret Winters sat in the dimly lit lounge, sipping her evening tea as the fireplace crackled softly in the background.

The mansion was unusually quiet tonight, with most of the staff having retired to their quarters. She exhaled, enjoying the rare moment of peace.

Her phone vibrated on the table beside her, the screen lighting up with Eleanor Harrington’s name. A small frown formed between Margaret’s brows.

It was late. Eleanor never called at this hour unless it was something urgent.

Setting her teacup down, she reached for the phone and answered.

“Eleanor? It’s quite late. Is everything alright?”

There was a pause on the other end. Too long of...