Everything went black.
The studio lights died at once, plunging Rhea and Luca into cold, suffocating darkness. The air tightened, thickening around them as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Then came the whisper.
Soft. Broken.
Too familiar.
"Rhea… come out."
Rhea's pulse slammed into her ribs. She clutched Luca's arm without thinking.
"That's not real," she breathed. "That's not…"
Luca grabbed her waist, pulling her into him. "Stay close."
"That sounded like…"
"I know who it sounded like. Ignore it."
"How can I ignore her voice?" Rhea whispered, trembling. "She's dead."
"Exactly," Luca said sharply. "That means someone is playing with you."
The whisper came again, closer this time, threading through the darkness like a cold hand:
"Rhea… don't hide from me."
Rhea's knees buckled.
Luca caught her. "Do not move."
"But Luca—"
"Don't. Move."
Footsteps sounded from the hallway.
Slow.
Purposeful.
The same pattern they remembered from Serena's room—soft heel first, then toe. A habit she had.
A habit she had been teased for.
A habit only Serena had.
Rhea's breath shattered. "Luca… that's her walk."
"No." Luca's voice deepened. "That's someone pretending to be her."
The footsteps paused just outside the studio door.
Luca moved silently, placing himself between Rhea and the door. His hand found hers and squeezed—firm, grounding, real.
The doorknob rattled.
Once.
Twice.
"Rhea…" the voice whispered from the other side. "Open the door."
Rhea covered her mouth, fighting a scream. "It… it sounds exactly like her."
Luca stepped forward, voice low. "If you're so brave, come in."
Silence.
No breath.
No movement.
Then…
A soft chuckle seeped through the cracks of the door.
Not Serena's laugh.
This one was wrong.
Too deep.
Too slow.
Too amused.
Rhea exhaled shakily. "That's not her."
"I told you." Luca's voice hardened. "He's trying to break you."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Fingernails dragged across the wood in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Luca snatched something from the table—a palette knife—holding it like a small blade.
Rhea grabbed his wrist. "What are you doing?"
"Protecting you."
"Against who? A spirit you can't see or touch?"
Just then, a shadow slid under the door.
Long and thin—like someone crouching.
"Rhea…"
The voice shifted again—lighter now.
"Let me see your hands."
Rhea froze.
The words hit harder than they should have.
"No," Luca growled. "You're not touching her."
"If she paints like her… I want to see."
"Shut up," Luca snapped.
The shadow paused.
Then—
It retreated.
Quick.
Silent.
Gone.
Luca exhaled a harsh breath. "He's leaving."
"How do you know?" Rhea whispered.
"Because if he wanted inside, he would've kicked the door open by now."
As if on cue, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then the studio blinked back to life.
Rhea blinked against the sudden brightness. The room looked the same as before… almost.
Except…
The portrait.
Rhea gasped, stepping back.
The slash across Serena's throat was still there—but something else had been added.
Another smear of black paint.
A finger dragged line.
Not across Serena.
Across Rhea.
A new silhouette had been drawn behind Serena—thin, tall, faceless—leaning over her.
Waiting.
Rhea's breath wavered. "He was inside here while we were in the dark."
Luca grabbed her wrist. "We're leaving."
Before she could respond, he pulled her toward the door.
"Luca…slow down…"
"No."
He didn't look back as he nearly dragged her through the hallway.
"Luca, stop!" she said, breathless. "Where are we going?"
"My wing."
"What about Margot? What about the staff's? They're terrified…"
"They'll live," he snapped. "You won't if you stay here."
Rhea yanked her hand back, forcing him to stop. "Talk to me!"
Luca turned sharply toward her—and for the first time since she arrived, she saw real fear on his face.
Not for himself.
For her.
"Whoever is inside this house," Luca said quietly, "knows Serena's voice, her walk, her habits… and now he's studying yours."
Rhea swallowed. "Studying? Why?"
Luca stepped closer, gripping her shoulders gently. "Because he knows what you are to her."
Rhea stiffened. "He knows I'm her sister."
"He might."
"Might?" she whispered. "Or does?"
Luca exhaled slowly. "Someone is using her memory to scare you."
"To scare us," Rhea corrected.
He froze, eyes darkening.
Rhea pressed on, voice trembling but firm. "Stop acting like this is only about me. He went after Margot. He broke into your studio. He's taunting you too."
Luca didn't answer.
Rhea took a brave step closer. "Look at me."
He did.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Luca's jaw tightened. "You're not ready."
"Try me."
He didn't speak.
Rhea's breath came out uneven. "Luca, I'm already part of this. Whether you admit it or not, whoever killed Serena—whoever followed her, stalked her—he's coming after me."
Luca's gaze dropped, his expression unreadable.
When he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously soft.
"You sound like her."
Rhea froze. "What?"
He stepped closer—slowly.
"You stand like her when you're scared," Luca murmured.
"You breathe like her when you're angry."
"You paint like her."
"You fight like her."
"And that's what he wants."
"Who?" Rhea whispered.
Luca's silence was the answer.
Rhea held still. "Tell me."
He clenched his jaw. "He wants you because you're the closest thing left."
Rhea's stomach sank. "Closest thing to what?"
"To Serena."
Their eyes locked.
Rhea's voice trembled. "Luca… did you know this man?"
"Yes."
"Did Serena know him?"
Luca's silence stretched too long.
Rhea's voice cracked. "Did she fear him?"
Luca exhaled sharply. "She feared what he wanted."
"And what did he want?"
Luca stepped back, breaking their proximity. "We don't have time for this."
"Yes. We do."
"No." His voice deepened. "We don't."
He grabbed her hand again and pulled her down the hallway.
"Luca!" she shouted. "Stop running from this!"
"I'm not running."
"You are."
He froze.
Then he turned and pulled her flush against him so suddenly she gasped.
His breath brushed her ear.
"I am not running from the truth," he said quietly. "I'm running from what it will do to you."
Rhea's heart shook.
Just then…
at the end of the hallway…
something flashed across the corner of her vision.
A shadow.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
"Luca…" she whispered.
He followed her gaze.
The shadow didn't move.
Then it stepped out.
Not the man.
Not staff.
A woman.
Dressed in white.
Hair falling over her face.
Bare feet leaving faint wet prints across the marble.
Rhea's blood turned to ice. "Luca… who is that?"
Luca's entire body tensed. "Rhea. Stay behind me."
"I think she's…"
"Don't say it."
But Rhea couldn't look away.
Because the woman in white lifted her head slowly, and her hair parted just enough to reveal—
Serena's face.
Or something wearing it.
Her lips curved into a chilling smile.
"Rhea," she whispered. "You kept me waiting."
Rhea stumbled back, choking on a breath. "Ser…Serena?"
The figure tilted her head.
And then…
Her face flickered.
Literally flickered—like a glitch in reality.
When it settled again, it wasn't Serena's face anymore.
It was someone else's.
Someone Rhea had never seen before.
The smile widened.
"Found you."
Then the figure lunged.