Chapter 31
ryan’s hand ghosted over the intricate wood carving of the dead-end south corridor. he pressed his weight against the paneling, feeling a faint click beneath the mahogany surface. the wall didn't just creak; it swung inward on perfectly oiled hinges, revealing a pitch-black crawlspace. a pair of terrified, wide green eyes stared back at him from the gloom. it was a little girl, barely older than lily, clutching a torn, dirty blanket to her chest. she was covered in dust, her cheeks hollowed from malnutrition. ryan’s blood ran colder than ice. how long had she been trapped inside the walls of his own home? lily pushed past his leg, sliding the plate of sandwiches into the dark space. "it's okay, mia," lily whispered sweetly. "my daddy is nice." the girl named mia reached a trembling hand out for the food, but as her sleeve pulled back, ryan saw it—a distinct, crescent-moon birthmark on her inner wrist. the exact same birthmark his late sister had. a sister who supposedly died in a car crash five years ago. ryan's breath hitched as he stared at the impossible child.
