On the third floor, Wiona found Tracy in the middle of dusting. “Can I ask you something?”
Tracy yelped, dropping to the floor in surprise. Marian, who was trailing behind Wiona, couldn’t help but twitch at the scene. So she was finally getting curious about the family business. In the eyes of the staff, all the recent trouble seemed to have started when she came back, so they’d quietly decided she was a bad omen. Most of them kept their distance. Only Tracy, who was close friends with Molly, didn’t seem quite as cold.
“Y-yes, Mrs. Salisbury? What is it?”
Wiona didn’t bother with small talk. “Has anyone moved or changed any of the paintings in the house lately?”
Tracy looked puzzled. “Paintings? No, not that I know of.”
“Are you sure? No one’s taken one down or sold anything?”
“These paintings have been here since the old master was alive. Nobody would dare touch them.”
Wiona nodded. “Alright. Thanks.”
She really did seem like she was just making casual conversation. After that, she wandered back to the little villa in the backyard, looking as if she had nothing else to do. But the bait was set. Now, it was just a matter of waiting to see who’d take it.
Night fell, and the Salisbury family home had never felt so quiet. Even with twenty or thirty servants around, Wiona felt like she was the only living soul in the whole place. The little villa was silent, the air heavy and still. She was eating dinner alone when the sudden roar of an engine cut through the calm.



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