Grandpa Thomas
Grandpa Thomas had lived long enough to recognize the presence of evil, even when it came wearing perfume and diamonds. It did not always arrive screaming.
Sometimes it walked in calmly, smiling, as if it belonged there. That evening, the Sinclair mansion felt strangely tense, the kind of quiet that made a man’s heart beat harder for no reason at all. The chandelier lights shone brightly, yet the air felt cold.
Grandma Eleanor sat beside him on the couch, her hands clasped together tightly, but no matter how hard she tried to look calm, her trembling fingers betrayed her fear.
Thomas watched her closely, his jaw tightening. He had spent decades protecting this family, this home, and most importantly, the woman sitting beside him.
He had seen storms, betrayals, and tra
