Gustavo's steps echoed in the servants' corridor, slow and deliberate. The mansion seemed to guide him, its silence pointing toward the walls that hid more than history.
He paused before the panel. Something about it felt… wrong. The air here was colder, the wood worn more than it should be. He pressed his palm flat against it.
Inside the passage, Anne and Esteve froze.
Her breath hitched against him; his hands still tangled in hers. The stone pressed cold against their backs, but their closeness burned. Neither dared move, neither dared breathe.
Anne's lips brushed his ear in a desperate whisper: "Don't make a sound."
Gustavo leaned closer to the panel. For a heartbeat, the world held still. His hand curled at the edge, ready to push.
And then—
His phone rang.
The shrill sound shattered the silence. Gustavo flinched, pulling back sharply, fumbling to silence it before it woke the household. His irritation turned to unease when he saw the caller ID: Unknown Number.
He answered.
No one spoke.
"Who is this?" Gustavo demanded.
Static crackled, then a low voice, distorted and hollow, whispered: "Watch her. She isn't yours."
The line went dead.
Gustavo's chest tightened, a cold shiver crawling down his spine. He stared at the panel again, suspicion gnawing at him—but unease heavier still. The phone trembled faintly in his hand.
Inside the passage, Anne clung tighter to Esteve, her pulse racing. They had heard it too—the faint vibration of his phone through the wall, the sharpness of his voice.
Esteve pressed his forehead to hers, whispering so softly it was barely breath: "We can't stop."
And they didn't. Even as fear and danger pressed in from the other side of the wall, they were bound together, unable to separate, their stolen moment growing more desperate with every second.
Outside, Gustavo stood rooted in the hall, torn between opening the panel and chasing the shadow of the voice that had called him.
The mansion was no longer silent—it was watching.