Chapter 8: Crossing the Threshold

I kept wiping the water from my hair, shivering. The heater was on, but I still felt nauseous. I cracked the window open—the cold was biting. Wet clothes clung to my skin, chilling me unexpectedly. I cupped my hands and breathed warm air onto them.

I wished I’d worn something heavier, but most of my warm clothes were buried at the bottom of my suitcase. The car smelled faintly of pine-scented air freshener.

The map showed we were getting closer and closer. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest.

My phone buzzed with notifications I ignored. I rehearsed what I’d say to Harrison, but the words kept slipping away.

The car stopped a few hundred meters from the gate. A security guard in a crisp uniform knocked on my window.

"Miss, who are you here to see?"

His tone was polite but firm, the kind of voice that brooked no nonsense.

I said, "Harrison Caldwell. Mr. Caldwell."

He spoke into his intercom, then turned to me. "Do you have an appointment?"

I gripped my phone, forcing out the words: "Just tell him it’s Riley."

My voice trembled. I tried to sound confident, but I knew I didn’t.

He spoke to someone on the other end again. I watched his face, my heart racing so fast I could barely breathe.

No mockery, no impatience. He gestured to the security booth to let us in. The barrier slowly lifted. My tense heart relaxed—then immediately tightened again, sharp pain shooting through me. It was supposed to be a lifeline, but felt like a walk to the gallows.

I thanked the driver, gathered my bags, and stepped out into the rain. My shoes squelched on the pebbled path, every step echoing in the quiet.

The driver pulled up to the entrance. Rain was still pouring down. I walked through the ornate, colonial-style gate, following the pebble path. The first floor was built beside the water, with clear floor-to-ceiling windows. Warm, champagne-colored light spilled through the cracks in the curtains of the reception room.

The house looked like something out of a magazine—white columns, manicured lawns, even a little pond by the porch. I hesitated, feeling out of place.