“I thought we were done with the secrets, Noah. I thought we had cleared out all the ghosts when we left the mansion.”

Celeste sat on the edge of a worn velvet armchair in their small temporary rental, her eyes fixed on the yellowed envelope in her brother’s hand. The air in the room felt stagnant, heavy with the dust of a history she hadn’t realized they were carrying. Outside, the Philippine rain drummed a relentless, rhythmic beat against the tin roof, a sound that usually brought her peace but now felt like a countdown.

Noah didn’t answer immediately. He smoothed the creases of the parchment with a trembling thumb,...