Isabella

The lady had called it a manor, but I called it a castle. After all, it was a castle. I hadn't remember seeing it when I was younger, but I remember my father speaking of it once or twice.

 "Who was the previous owner?" I asked the lady, whose name was Marie. She was a middle-aged woman with salt and pepper blonde hair that was pulled back from her face into a professional-looking bun.

She was dressed in a black skirt suit that stopped at her knees, as well as a pair of black pumps that made clicking sounds as she walked the marbled hallways of the castle.

"It...