Chapter 2 - THE GHOST IN THE PENTHOUSEThe guest room felt like a dream, but the cold weight of the crib in the corner haunted Clare. She didn't sleep. Instead, she spent the hours listening to the sounds of the penthouse—the muffled hum of the heating system, the distant chime of a clock. Ryan didn't come to check on her. He stayed in the study, his footsteps pacing the floorboards until the gray light of dawn crept through the curtains.
When Clare emerged, the apartment was silent. A note was on the kitchen island: I’ve arranged for a nurse to come by at noon. Don’t leave. It isn’t safe for the babies out there.
She wandered into the living room, her eyes drawn to a mahogany desk covered in architectural blueprints. She leaned over to glance at them—the layout of the "Horizon Tower," a massive urban development project. Her breath hitched. Her husband, David, had been a foreman for the main contractor of the Horizon Tower. He hadn’t just worked there; he had died there, crushed by a structural collapse that the company blamed on "worker negligence."
She stared at the company logo on the header of the blueprints: HALE-MORRISON DEVELOPMENT. The name didn't mean anything yet. But the building itself? It was the tomb where her life had ended.
