That night, Isabel couldn't sleep.
The image of that dusty door haunted her.
So did Leo's warning.
And Damon's silence.
When she rose from the bed, it was instinct, not logic, that guided her hands. She moved like someone half-awake, drifting down the hall barefoot. The mansion groaned beneath her feet. The air was heavy.
She returned to the east wing.
This time, the door was open.
Heart racing, she stepped inside.
It was a bedroom.
Smaller. Cozier. Old-fashioned.
A mirror stood in the corner. Dust on the glass. And resting on the dresser...
A silver necklace.
She reached for it.
"Don't touch that."
Damon's voice sliced through the air like a knife.
She jumped, turning around.
He stood in the doorway. Shirtless, jaw tense, eyes darker than she'd ever seen.
"I - I didn't know this was someone's room," she whispered.
"It's not anymore," he said. " It hasn't been for five years."
Isabel's fingers hovered over the necklace. "Who was she?"
Silence.
Then, finally, a single word.
"Evelyn"
The name was heavy. Sacred. Shattering.
"Your sister?" She guessed.
He shook his head.
" My fiancée."
Isabel's breath caught.
She let go of the necklace.
He stepped forward, eyes locked on hers. "She died in this house. In this room. And I've never let anyone walk in here since."
"Then why leave it open?" She asked.
His voice broke - just a little. "Because maybe... part of me wanted you to."