Chapter 120.
Isaac stepped into the house and was met by silence.
The apartment smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and old pine wood—too clean, too undisturbed. Shoes were neatly lined up by the door, the lights were all off, and nothing had moved in days. His coat slung from his hand, landing on the hook without thought, as he stepped deeper inside.
The quiet was suffocating.
He stood still in the hallway, letting the emptiness press in from all sides. It used to be a place filled with sound. Lucas’s keys jingling at the door. The low hum of music in the kitchen. Laughter—soft, warm, and real. Now, all of it had been stripped away, and the walls echoed like a tomb.
Isaac didn’t even bother checking the fridge. He wasn’t hungry.
Instead, he wandered into the living room and stared at the sofa—brown leather, slightly worn on the edge where Lucas used to sit while flipping through medical journals. The coffee mug Lucas always left half-full was gone, probably thrown out during the cleanup, but Isaac could still see it there.
Still see him there.
The ache twisted like a hook behind his ribs.
He turned away quickly, grabbing his keys again.
The streets were mostly empty as night deepened. Rain threatened but hadn’t fallen yet. Isaac didn’t mind the cold air cutting against his cheeks—it helped him focus, kept the shadows of memory from overwhelming him completely.
He found himself walking with intention, not realizing where he was going until the tall wrought-iron gate came into view.
Levistis Manor.