The first thing I noticed about Dynamic Estate was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind you hear in the countryside, where birds chirp and the wind hums softly through trees. This silence was heavier. Controlled. Like the air itself had been trained to behave.
I stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by half-open boxes and folded clothes, and turned slowly, taking it all in. The walls were tall and pristine, painted in soft neutral tones that made the sunlight pouring through the massive windows glow instead of glare. Chandeliers hung like frozen stars above us. Everything smelled new. Expensive. Untouched.
"We actually live here," I whispered, half-laughing, half-afraid that saying it out loud might shatter the illusion.
Damien chuckled behind me. "Say it again. I like the sound of it."
I turned to him, smiling. My husband, my football-star husband, even though the words still felt unreal, was kneeling beside an open box, stacking his jerseys neatly into a wardrobe that looked bigger than our old bedroom. He looked relaxed. Lighter. Like a man who had finally exhaled after years of holding his breath.
A year ago, we were drowning in bills, dodging calls from creditors, pretending not to hear the landlord knock. Now we were unpacking in a mansion hidden deep inside a forest, in an estate reserved for people whose names carried weight.
Life was funny like that.
I reached for my phone and snapped a picture of the view outside the window, the winding road, the towering trees, the way the sunlight filtered through the leaves like golden dust.
"I'm drawing this later," I said. "The whole estate. Every angle."
Damien glanced at me. "Already planning?"
"I can't help it," I replied. "This place feels like a masterpiece waiting to be sketched."
He stood up and walked over, slipping his arms around my waist from behind. I leaned back against him, resting my head on his chest.
"You deserve this," he murmured into my hair.
I turned around and kissed him, slow, grateful, full of all the things we had survived together. Debt. Fear. Late nights wondering if love was enough when money wasn't.
Now, it felt like we were finally being rewarded.
A sharp knock broke the moment.
Damien frowned. "Did you invite someone?"
I shook my head. "We don't even know anyone here."
Another knock followed, polite but firm.
I stepped toward the door, smoothing my shirt as if that somehow mattered. When I opened it, the woman standing on our doorstep looked like she had stepped out of a magazine.
She was elderly, her face lined with age, but everything about her screamed luxury. Her gray hair was perfectly styled, her jewelry subtle but unmistakably expensive. Pearls rested against her neck. Her dress fit her like it had been sewn directly onto her body.
And she was smiling.
"Welcome to Dynamic Estate," she said warmly. "I'm Susan."
She held out a neatly wrapped box. "I thought you might like some cookies. Freshly baked."
"Oh, thank you," I said, genuinely touched. "That's very kind."
Damien appeared beside me, his posture polite but guarded.
Susan's eyes swept over our home with approval. "You have the Whitestone house. Beautiful choice. My place is just next door."
She spoke easily, confidently, like someone who belonged everywhere she stood.
"I'm a widow," she continued casually. "Have been for years now. I make it a point to welcome new neighbors. We don't get many."
"I'm Jade," I said. "And this is my husband, Damien."
She smiled wider. "I know who he is."
Damien stiffened slightly.
"Oh, don't look so startled," she laughed softly. "News travels fast here. A football star moving into Dynamic Estate? Of course people noticed."
Something about the way she said here made my skin prickle, but I brushed it aside.
"There's a welcome dinner tomorrow evening," Susan added. "In the estate garden. We'll introduce you to everyone. It's tradition."
"That sounds lovely," I said without hesitation.
Damien hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Thank you. We'll be there."
Susan patted my hand gently. "You'll fit in just fine, dear."
Then she turned and walked away, her heels clicking softly against the pavement until she disappeared into the neighboring mansion.
I closed the door, heart oddly light.
"She's nice," I said.
Damien didn't answer right away.
"She's… very nice," he said finally. "Too nice."
I frowned. "What does that mean?"
He shrugged. "Just be careful, okay? People like that usually want something."
I laughed. "She gave us cookies, not a contract."
Still, something in his voice lingered.
Later that evening, we decided to explore. The estate roads curved elegantly through the forest, lined with manicured hedges and glowing lanterns. Everything was spotless. Controlled.
As we walked, we passed a group of estate cleaners near the road, their uniforms crisp, their voices low.
"…don't talk about it out here," one whispered.
"I'm telling you, it was brutal," another replied. "Two girls. Stabbed."
I slowed instinctively.
"They were Susan's children," a third voice said. "Sixteen and seventeen. Beautiful girls."
My chest tightened.
"They never found who did it," the first voice added. "Management shut it down fast. Said it was an accident."
"An accident with stab wounds?" someone scoffed.
"Lower your voice," another hissed. "You want trouble?"
Damien gently tugged my hand, urging me forward. My heart pounded as we walked away, the whispers still echoing in my ears.
Susan's children.
Stabbed.
Unsolved.
Back home, I couldn't stop thinking about it.
"She lost her daughters?" I asked quietly.
Damien nodded. "And nobody talks about it."
"That's horrible."
"That's dangerous," he corrected.
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how quiet the house felt again.
"Just promise me something," Damien said softly. "Don't get too close to her. Or anyone here."
I nodded, even though a part of me didn't want to believe it.
Dynamic Estate was beautiful.
But beneath the silence, something was wrong.
And I had a feeling we had just stepped into it.