Behind the door, a narrow spiral staircase wound down into darkness. Cold air poured up from below, thick with the scent of paper and candle wax. Liam led, flashlight trembling in his hand. The stairs spiraled endlessly until they reached a small underground chamber. Despite the decay above, this room looked untouched—preserved like a secret that refused to fade.
Wooden shelves lined the walls, holding porcelain trinkets and delicate boxes. In the center stood a writing desk coated in dust, and atop it, a neat bundle of letters tied with lace. Emily lifted one carefully. The paper crackled, fragile with age. “Clara Whitmore,” she read from the signature. “That must be her.” Each envelope was dated between 1923 and 1924 and addressed to someone named Henry Bell. “A secret lover?” Liam guessed. Emily nodded slowly. “Or someone she wasn’t supposed to love.” They sat cross-legged on the cold floor and began to read.
Continue reading on the next page to uncover what the letters revealed!