Chapter 8 - The Shadow in the MirrorLate that night, long after Sophie had fallen asleep to the real lullaby sung by her mother's actual voice, Grant walked down the dimly lit hallway toward his private study. The heavy oak door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of pale moonlight cutting across the Persian rug.
He frowned. He was certain he had locked it before dinner.
Pushing the door open, he stepped inside. The room was deathly quiet. On the mahogany desk, right beside the silver music box, sat a pristine, unmarked white envelope.
Grant’s muscles tensed. He crossed the floor in three silent strides, his heart hammering against his ribs. He tore open the flap and pulled out a single sheet of heavy cardstock.
Scrawled across the paper in sharp, elegant handwriting were three simple words:
May you like
The board is clean. Watch the water.
Before Grant could process the warning, the overhead lights in the study flickered once and died, plunging the room into absolute darkness. From the open French doors leading to the balcony came the faint, unmistakable sound of someone whistling a familiar, haunting tune—the opening notes of a lullaby no one else was supposed to know.
