Emma pressed her face into his shoulder, shivering.
“Aunt Vanessa said you died in the airplane,” she whispered. “She said you’d never come back.”
Daniel’s heart started racing.
He glanced toward the mansion. All the curtains were shut, yet loud music blasted from inside along with laughter and voices.
“Emma… how long have you been here?”
“Since yesterday morning,” she answered weakly. “Aunt Vanessa told me to stay in the garden. But when it got dark I got scared, so I waited here in the front for you.”
“Since yesterday?”
She nodded.
Daniel noticed her feet—purple from the cold and covered in tiny cuts. There were bruised marks on her arms as if someone had grabbed her roughly.
He carried her to the door and unlocked it.
The moment they stepped inside, a heavy smell hit him—cigarettes, alcohol, perfume.
The living room was a disaster. Empty champagne bottles, dirty glasses, ashtrays, and clothes lay scattered across the floor: a dress shirt, an expensive tie, even a designer suit.
Loud laughter echoed from upstairs.
“What is going on here…” Daniel muttered.
Emma clung tighter to him.
“The uncles are playing with Aunt Vanessa upstairs,” she whispered. “They’re always loud when they play.”