The Estate Of Secrets (eBook)

Dark Romance Novel

Zuri Lynn (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
200 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-081299-5 (ISBN)

Infos

The Estate of Secrets

When Sera Blake accepts a lucrative offer to work as the caretaker of a secluded estate, it seems like the answer to all her problems. No family, no attachments, no distractions-just silence, solitude, and a paycheck big enough to wipe her past clean.

But Blackthorn Estate is more prison than paradise. The halls echo with secrets, the staff speak in hushed tones, and every locked door warns her to stay away. Her employer, the enigmatic Alaric Voss, is a man as refined as he is dangerous-controlled, cold, and hiding something beneath every perfectly measured word.

As Sera digs deeper into the mansion's past, she discovers that some doors are locked for a reason... and that the darkest secrets aren't buried in the walls-but in the man who owns them.

Because Alaric Voss is not the kind of man you fall for. He's the kind you survive.

And some contracts can't be broken-not without blood.

Textauszug

​Chapter 6

The morning light filtered through heavy curtains, a faint gray glow struggling to push past the storm clouds still hanging low over the estate. I woke with my head pounding, an echo of last night’s chill lingering on my skin. My muscles ached from climbing down that cold, stone stairway into the hidden cellar, from the sudden brush of Alaric’s hand as he caught me in the shadows. The memory of his touch burned faintly, a ghost against my nerves.

I lay still, eyes tracing the fading pattern of the ceiling, listening to the estate’s heartbeat — the low hum of distant machinery, the soft creak of settling wood, the restless tapping of rain against the windowpanes. The silence was not peace. It was waiting.

Slowly, I pushed back the thin blankets and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The wooden floor was cold beneath my bare feet. I dressed quietly in the small dressing room off the main chamber, the soft rustle of fabric loud in the stillness. The leather-bound key rested in my palm, heavy and unforgiving.

What did it mean? Was it an invitation? A warning?

I tried to push the questions away as I walked the halls, their cold marble and polished wood somehow deeper in shadow this morning. The staff were already moving in silent choreography. I caught brief glimpses of their faces — taut, unreadable — as they shifted around the estate like ghosts. The housekeeper avoided my eyes, her lips pressed in a thin line.

I went to the kitchen to make tea. The usual warmth and clatter of pots and pans was absent, replaced by a suffocating quiet. I heard muffled voices just beyond the door, then footsteps retreating. Whatever undercurrents pulsed through this place, I was swimming in them without a life vest.

I took my cup and retreated to the library, the one room I’d claimed as my refuge. The leather armchair felt stiff and unfamiliar, but I sank into it anyway. Outside the window, lightning flashed, illuminating the towering trees surrounding the estate in stark relief. The thunder rolled, distant but insistent.

I was trapped in a gilded cage.

The hours crawled by. I buried myself in estate records, supply lists, and Alaric’s odd instructions. But my mind kept drifting to the key — to that forbidden room. The memory of the heavy door looming in the cellar, the faint whisper of voices through its thick wood.

Alaric was watching me, I was sure of it. Not just with his eyes but with the invisible threads of control he wove through the estate. Every camera angle, every door locked or unlocked, every hushed conversation — it was all part of his web.

I wanted answers. But answers were dangerous here.

When dusk came, I wandered the halls, the storm now closer, wind rattling the panes and rain drumming like a warning. I passed the staff quarters, the servants moving about with practiced discretion, eyes downcast.

I stopped outside the grand doors of the music room — another forbidden space. No one had explained why it was off limits, but the chill that seeped from beneath made me hesitate.

I was no longer a guest.

I was a prisoner.

Suddenly, a soft noise behind me made me spin. Alaric stood there, his silhouette outlined by the lightning behind him. His expression was unreadable, but the cold control in his eyes was sharper than ever.

“You shouldn’t be wandering,” he said quietly.

“Neither should you,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “But I’m beginning to think rules here are just for show.”

His lips twitched — almost a smile — before the mask returned. “Rules keep you safe.”

“Safe?” I laughed bitterly. “Safe is the last thing I feel here.”

He stepped closer, the space between us crackling with unspoken tension. “There are things you don’t understand.”

“Then explain.”

His eyes darkened, shadowed by secrets I knew would break me if he told them.

Instead, he reached into his coat and handed me a folded piece of paper. “Read this. Decide if you want to stay.”

Before I could respond, he turned and vanished down the hall, his footsteps swallowed by the storm.

I unfolded the note carefully, hands trembling. The handwriting was unfamiliar, precise:

“Not everything you see is truth. Watch your back.”

The warning was clear — and chilling.

Who was watching? And why?

That night, sleep was impossible. I lay awake, listening to the storm rage, thoughts twisting into a tangled web. Alaric’s control tightened around me, but so did something else — a flicker of rebellion, a desperate need to understand the dark heart of this place.

Tomorrow, I would try again to find answers.

Even if it meant crossing a line I could never come back from.

The fire had long since died to glowing embers by the time I slipped out of my room again. The estate, caught between the lingering storm and midnight’s chill, felt both empty and charged — like the calm before a reckoning.

I moved through the halls with practiced stealth, my bare feet silent on the cold marble. Each step felt heavier, the weight of unseen eyes pressing against my skin. I wasn’t sure if it was Alaric watching, the staff whispering in shadows, or the ghosts of the estate itself.

I found myself drawn toward the locked door in the cellar again, the heavy brass key burning in my pocket like a secret too big to hold. I needed to know what was behind it — the source of the silence and dread that clung to this place.

The passage to the basement was colder still, the air thick with damp earth and forgotten memories. My fingers trembled as I slipped the key into the lock, the tumblers clicking open with a reluctant groan.

The door swung inward to reveal a narrow stairwell descending into darkness.

I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The cellar was a labyrinth of stone corridors and iron doors, lined with cobwebs and the faint scent of rust and something older — decay, or maybe secrets left to rot. My flashlight cut swaths through the darkness, revealing peeling paint and scattered debris.

I moved cautiously, my heart pounding in rhythm with my quickened steps.

Ahead, I spotted a faint glow leaking from beneath a heavy door. This had to be the room Alaric never wanted me to find.

I pressed my ear to the door.

Silence.

No voices, no movement.

But the air was thick with something — unease? Waiting?

The sudden scrape of metal behind me made me whirl around, breath catching in my throat.

Alaric stood in the shadows, his eyes sharp and unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I had to know,” I said, voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.

He stepped forward, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of cedar and smoke clinging to him. “Some doors should remain closed.”

“Maybe some doors should be opened.”

He hesitated, then with a slow, deliberate motion, pulled a small lever beside the door.

The heavy bolts slid back with a grinding sound.

He held the door open for me.

Inside was a room unlike any I expected.

Walls lined with old photographs, maps, and notes pinned haphazardly — evidence of a hidden obsession. A desk cluttered with papers, a worn leather chair, and a locked cabinet emitting a faint metallic scent.

My eyes were drawn to a large, faded portrait of a woman hanging above the fireplace — her eyes haunting, her smile frozen in time.

“Who is she?” I whispered.

Alaric’s jaw tightened. “My sister.”

The air thickened with unspoken history. The woman in the photo was a ghost in the house, a secret wound sealed tight.

I reached out, fingers brushing the frame.

“Why keep this room locked?”

“To protect the past,” he said. “And to keep you safe.”

“From what?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he closed the door slowly, the click echoing like a verdict.

Back in my room, I sat with my thoughts swirling like the storm outside.

The past was a heavy chain, binding us both in ways I didn’t yet understand.

And the estate was not just a house — it was a labyrinth of shadows, memories, and secrets that threatened to consume us.

I wasn’t just caretaker here.

I was a prisoner of something far darker.

The rain had slowed to a soft patter, but the storm’s fury seemed to have transferred inside me. I paced the length of my room, the walls closing in with every unanswered question. Who was Alaric’s sister, and why was she locked away in that shadowed room? What shadows lingered in the corners of his carefully controlled world?

I could almost hear the whispers — not from the walls, but from the dark places in my own mind, stirring up old fears I’d tried to bury. The truth was a dangerous thing here, one that could unravel everything I thought I knew about this place… and about myself.

Suddenly, a soft knock at the door made me jump.

“Come in,” I called, trying to steady my voice.

The door opened a crack, and it was Elena, the...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.5.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Fantasy / Science Fiction ► Fantasy
• ISBN-10: 0-00-081299-4 / 0000812994
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-081299-5 / 9780000812995