The celebration ended later that day. Everyone was eating, chatting, and congratulating Grace on her big achievement. It almost seemed like everything was normal and it was just a big family having a fun night. Nothing could ruin that day, or that's what the family thought.

"Hello everyone! I would like to propose a toast." Mr. Dawson said and everyone grabbed their respective cup. "Grace is the greatest girl I have ever known. She never gives up, and she's the reason I'm up here talking right now. My dear Gracie, you've made your old mom and dad so proud. We couldn't ask for a better daughter. Please raise your glasses for my beautiful Grace Eloise Dawson!" He finished and a loud clink could be heard around the house.

When Grace thanked her dad and looked around, she noticed a chef who had left the table to go sit in front of the indoor fountain. Being the curious girl she was, she needed to know what had gotten him so worried.

"Would you excuse me for a second?" She asked politely, and everyone sitting around the table nodded. She moved her chair, that didn't even squeak a little bit, and walked towards the grey-haired man, sitting alone. "Excuse me." The teenager said as she approached him. The man looked up at her and smiled lightly. He nodded, motioning for her to sit next to him.

"How can I help you, Grace?" He asked sweetly. He hadn't worked in the Dawson house for long, but he had become close with the Dawson's oldest daughter.

"What's wrong, Mr. Stone?" The girl asked, knowing something was bothering the chef. He shook his head, but it wasn't convincing enough for Grace to be satisfied. "Aren't you going to join the celebration?"

"Oh, dear Grace. I have something to tell you..." The man said, a worried expression appearing on Grace's face. "I worked for the Barlow family, and left two weeks ago because... strange things were happening."

"Strange things? What do you mean?"

"One day, Mr. and Mrs. Barlow went crazy. They locked themselves in the master bedroom for days. They didn't eat and there was no noise coming out of the room. When they came out, they acted as if nothing happened." He explained, looking at the floor. Grace's eyes widened.

"Who took care of the kid?" She asked, standing up.

"They didn't have a kid." The chef looked up at her and left to his room. Grace's mind was left a mess. The kid was one year old, and there was no way the Barlow family kept him a secret.

The blonde girl went back to the table, but she wasn't cheerful and excited anymore. She couldn't stop thinking about the Barlow family.

When the party ended, they all went to their respective rooms. Grace would usually go to her brother's room and read him a bedtime story, but she didn't. She went straight to her bedroom and laid down, wondering what would happen on the weekend. A loud noise coming from downstairs interrupted her thoughts. It sounded like a chair falling, or a piece of wood hitting the ground.

She got out of the room, surprised to see that no one else was curious of what the noise was. The halls were empty, and all the lights were off, except one. It wasn't that late.

"Oh no." She said in a low voice when she looked at what made the sound. She frowned in concern, and approached the only lit hall in the whole mansion.

There was one painting on the floor. A really expensive and exclusive one. It didn't look damaged, though. It fell on its back, something that wouldn't happen since it was hung up high on the wall. Grace failed to see the logic. She bent over the painting, and examined its frame. She noticed a small red line, that seemed to continue on the back. With shaky hands, she turned the picture over.

She let out a loud gasp that could be heard in the empty hall. Wide-eyed, she tried to understand what she was seeing. The letters T-Y, formed with deep scratches. It didn't look like someone an animal could make. Then, the letters L-E-R, painted with a dark red color. It almost looked like blood. The girl touched the red letters carefully, and then looked at her pale hands. It was wet. She left the picture on the floor, and stood up.

She didn't feel safe anymore, someone had done that, and the person that did it could be right next to her. She read the letters again. T-Y-L-E-R. Tyler.

"Tyler B." She heard a voice behind her, that made her turn around. Nothing. No one was there. Was she hearing things?

"Who's there?" She asked, with a trembling voice. No answer. She started running to her room, leaving the light on and the painting on the floor. She just had to escape.

She entered her room, closing the door quickly behind her and sat on the floor. She could feel the sweat dripping from her forehead. The words were resonating in her mind. Tyler B.