This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.
The vintage Bentley's headlights cut through the thick fog rolling off the English countryside as Victoria Ashworth gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white against the leather. The GPS had lost signal twenty minutes ago, leaving her to navigate the winding country roads by memory and instinct. She should have stayed in London tonight, should have waited until morning to make this journey to Blackmoor Estate, but the urgency in her grandfather's letter had compelled her to drive through the night.
The letter, written in his distinctive shaky handwriting, had arrived three days after his funeral. The impossibility of it still made her heart race. Edmund Ashworth had been dead and buried, yet somehow his words had reached her from beyond the grave, summoning her to the family estate she hadn't visited in over a decade.
"Victoria," the letter had begun, "if you are reading this, then the worst has come to pass. Trust no one at Blackmoor. The truth lies where we once hid from storms. Come alone. Time is running short."
Now, as the imposing silhouette of Blackmoor Estate emerged from the mist, Victoria felt a chill that had nothing to do with the October wind. The Gothic mansion loomed against the stormy sky, its tall windows dark except for a single light glowing in what she remembered was the library tower. Someone was awake, waiting.
She parked in the circular drive, the gravel crunching beneath her heels as she approached the massive oak doors. Before she could knock, one door swung open, revealing a tall figure silhouetted against the warm interior light.
