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“Because a lot of people died in this house.”

“You mean the five construction workers in the fire?” I ask, recalling the story Nana told me when I was a child about Parsons Manor catching fire and killing five men. They had to tear down the charred bones and restart. But the ghosts of those men still linger—I just know it.

“Yes, but not just them.”

She stares at me hard while my hesitance worsens. I turn to look out the window beside me, contemplating if I should just make her leave now. She’s going to tell me something life-changing, and I’m not sure I want to hear it.

“Then who else?” I finally ask, my eyes glued to Mom’s shiny black Lexus parked outside. Schmancy. So schmancy that it almost seems mocking. A stark difference to this old house, as if to say I’m better than you.

Being a real estate agent pays well. When I was born, she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. But considering the turmoil of our relationship as I got older, that notion soured, so she threw herself into becoming one of the top sellers in Washington.

Honestly, I’m proud of her accomplishments. I just wish she felt the same about mine.

“Your great-grandmother, Gigi,” she declares, pulling me out of my thoughts. My head snaps towards her, shock curling through me. “Not only did she die in this house, Addie, but she was murdered here.” I couldn’t keep my mouth from dropping open if I tried.

I shoot upward, the rocking chair slamming harshly against the wall behind me.

“She did not,” I deny. But if my mother is anything, it’s not a liar.

Nana spoke about Gigi often. Her mother was her entire world. But she definitely never told me Gigi was murdered. I had only asked once about her death, and Nana only said that she died too soon. Nana closed down after that and refused to say anything more.

At the time, I was too young to give it much thought. I just assumed she was still hurting and left it at that. It hadn’t occurred to me that Gigi’s death was tragic.

She sighs. “That’s why your Nana always had this weird… obsession with the manor. She was young when it happened. Her father, John, no longer wanted anything to do with this place, but Nana threw the world’s biggest temper tantrum and forced him to stay in the house his wife was murdered in.” She glances at me, noting the droll look on my face from her insult. “Those were my grandpa’s words, not mine. At least about the temper tantrum. Anyway, the second she was old enough, he gave it to her and moved out, and she lived on in the manor, as you already know.”

I face the window again, the beginnings of the storm pattering against the glass. In a few minutes, it’ll be a downpour. Thunder rolls, building to a crescendo before a loud crack shakes the foundations of the house.

It matches my mood perfectly.

“Do you have anything to say?” she pushes, her eyes boring a hole into the side of my head.

I shake my head soundlessly, scrambling for a response. My brain is numb to coherent thoughts.

There are no words.

Absolutely no words to describe the utter disbelief I’m feeling.

She sighs again, this time softer and filled with… I don’t know, empathy? Mom may not be a liar, but she’s also never been empathetic, either.

“My dad never felt comfortable raising me here, but your Nana insisted. She loved Gigi, and she wasn’t capable of letting this house go. It’s cursed. I don’t want to see you do the same thing—grow attached to a house just because you loved your Nana.”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, biting hard as another crack of thunder tears through the atmosphere.

Was Gigi killed by her stalker? The man she called a visitor, who would come into her home and do unspeakable things. Things that she tried not to want—but did.

Was it him? Was he playing her all along, sensing her growing attraction for him, despite what he was doing and took advantage?

It’s

the only thing that makes sense.

I turn back to her. “Do they know who did it—who killed Gigi?”

Mom shakes her head, her lips tightening into a thin line, causing the pink lipstick to crack. Those cracks extend far deeper than her lipstick. She’s also been broken, though I could never figure out why.

“No, it still goes unsolved to this day. They didn’t have sufficient evidence, and back then, it was easier to get away with things than it is now, Addie. Some thought it was my grandfather, but I know he’d never do such a thing. He loved her dearly.”

Unsolved. My great-grandmother was murdered in this very house, and no one ever caught the killer. Dread sinks into my stomach like a stone in a lake.