And I've been meaning to tell you
I think your house is haunted

Ashwood Hall was shrouded in twilight. Inside, it was quiet, and the warm glow of lamps gently illuminated the walls adorned with rich, dark wooden paneling. The marble black-and-white checkered floor led straight to the large doors at the end of the corridor. On the left side were stairs leading to the upper floor. As Vivian crossed the threshold of the residence, her gaze instinctively rose to the carved mezzanine surrounding the entire hall. A strange smell greeted her, reminiscent of what she only associated with old churches. Perhaps it was the scent of old walls or the oils used to preserve so many wooden elements. She only had time to sweep her eyes over the numerous paintings hanging on the walls. Portraits and dreamy landscapes. Did they depict former residents of the house, or were they merely luxurious decorations? Perhaps, if she had the opportunity to examine them closely, she would find the signature of a renowned master on one of them.

A tightness gripped her stomach, one not related to hunger this time. She felt completely out of place here, amidst the opulence and elegance that suddenly surrounded her from all sides. Hearing Daisy's boots tap on the shiny floor, she glanced down at her own shoes. Until this moment, sneakers seemed like an excellent choice for a long day outside the dorm. She had never thought of herself in terms of poverty. She had a normal life, raised in a typical middle-class home. Maybe her mother's income didn't allow for extravagant foreign vacations, and the topic of going away for college had been debated for a long time, but she never felt like something was clearly missing. Perhaps until now. She discreetly tugged at her pant leg to cover her shoes a bit more.

"Please, this way," Alden said after hanging his coat in the closet by the entrance, gesturing toward the corridor on the right. He walked ahead, and Vivian followed him hesitantly. She only managed to glance at the corridor, which continued the gallery of paintings in various frames, interrupted only by more doors. All of them were closed except for the first one on the edge, leading to the dining room, which seemed to be their destination.

"We're here," Daisy called out as she crossed the threshold of the room just behind Alden.

Vivian momentarily abandoned her plan of examining the dining room walls and focused her gaze on the masculine figure waiting for them by the window. The dark-haired young man in a shirt and navy sweater turned toward them. At first glance, he seemed as tall as Alden, but more athletically built. He took a few steps closer and finally relaxed his shoulders, which had been crossed over his chest, extending his hand in greeting.

"Miles Oberlin."

"Vivian," she shook his hand. "Vivian Burton," she decided to add her last name since he had introduced himself as well.

"Pleasure to meet you," the young man smiled slightly and gestured towards the table. "Please, have a seat."

Only now did Vivian have the opportunity to take in the room. Although the table was ridiculously long, probably able to accommodate nearly twenty people, it was set only at one end. She finally understood the strange feeling that had accompanied her since crossing the threshold of the residence. Despite the immense size of the building and its overflow of antique decorations, it somehow felt empty. Perhaps it was because of the evening hour, but it wasn't late enough for most residents to retire for the night. On the table, aside from the beautifully arranged appetizers, lit candles, and dark green tablecloth, there was place setting for only five people.

Daisy took the second seat to the right of the table, and Vivian chose a safe chair close to her, situating herself on the edge. Miles sat on the other side of the table, across from Vivian, and Alden took the seat next to him. Vivian was convinced that Oberlin would occupy the central seat at the top of the table, but then she noticed that it wasn't even set. The last available seat remained next to Alden, and it seemed like he had already noticed the absence of one more person.

"Where's Beatrice?" he asked.

"She's still getting ready. She should be down soon," Miles replied.

Maybe she wasted too much time staring out the window, Vivian thought.

"So, how do you like Hillcrest? How are your studies?" Oberlin leaned his elbows on the table, observing the girl.

"I'm still getting used to student life, but it's alright," she replied. "The town is charming too, except for all the murder..."

"Oh, yes," Miles lowered his head for a moment, looking at the table. "It's a terrible tragedy, but they'll surely catch whoever did it soon." He nodded with conviction.

"Do such things happen here often?" The words flowed from Vivian's lips, perhaps due to nerves or a fear of awkward silence.

"Absolutely not," the young man shook his head. "It's a peaceful town, dare I say, rather boring."

"But there's supposedly a cult here," Vivian blurted out before realizing that she might have said too much. She shouldn't have said that, not in this house. A cold shiver ran down her spine before an unexpected laugh came from her left.

"Don't tell me you believe in such nonsense," said the girl standing in the doorway of the dining room, wearing a black long-sleeved dress. Some of her thick, dark curls were pinned up in a bun, while the rest flowed loosely over her shoulders.

Vivian looked in her direction and was about to get up, approach her, and say hello. However, the girl decided to stride across the length of the table on the opposite side, stopping at the empty seat and resting her hands on the back of the chair. She sized up Vivian with her gaze and nodded in greeting.

"Beatrice," she introduced herself. "Nice to meet you." The earlier amusement quickly disappeared from her face, replaced by a slightly furrowed brow and tightened lips, indicating a forced politeness. Vivian got the impression that the girl might belong to those who could ruin someone's life in high school with just one nasty look. Queen bee type of girl, with a fitting name as well.

"Vivian," she replied, returning a brief nod with a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry you had to wait for me."

"No worries. We didn't wait long," Miles said as he got up from his seat. "I'll bring dinner. Daisy, could you help me?"

The blonde nodded and got up, and together they headed toward the door behind Vivian's back. Before Beatrice took her seat, she turned towards the sideboard next to the fireplace and opened one of the cabinets.

"White or red?"

"I heard something about salmon," Alden glanced at his friend.

"So, white," the girl pulled out a bottle of wine and turned towards the table. She held the neck of the bottle in her hand, as if contemplating something for a moment, before sliding it in the direction of the guy to her left. "Chardonnay should go perfectly." She glanced at the arrangement of the tableware and adjusted the glass next to Miles' plate toward Alden.

"I don't drink. Someone needs to drive Vivian back to town."

"Miles will drive her," Beatrice replied firmly, and once the young man managed to open the bottle, she took it from him for a moment to pour him some wine.

Alden got up from his seat and circled the table, pouring the drink into the other glasses, while Miles and Daisy brought more plates, filling the room with the intense aroma of roasted salmon in mushroom sauce. When the plate appeared in front of Vivian, she felt her stomach strongly react to the beautiful smell. Even if they were planning to poison her, she wouldn't be able to resist the dish right now. However, she waited until everyone was seated again before picking up her fork.

"Is everything alright?" Alden leaned closer to Beatrice for a moment as she sat down. The girl nodded dismissively and focused on her own plate.

Conversation ceased for a while as everyone was engrossed in their food. Only the sound of utensils clinking and the quiet clinking of glasses could be heard. Vivian almost let out a quiet hum of satisfaction when the first bites of the salmon in creamy sauce melted in her mouth. She could say she missed her mom's cooking, but Jocelyn's dishes didn't compare to what she was tasting now.

After satisfying her initial hunger, she took a sip of wine, which indeed went wonderfully with the meal. She allowed herself to glance around the room again and observe the residents when they weren't focused solely on her. They were extremely hospitable, that's for sure, but she sensed something forced in the behavior of the girl across the table. Perhaps she didn't feel like socializing today and simply didn't want to be here. Beatrice absentmindedly moved her food around on her plate, although her glass was nearly empty. She had a slightly darker complexion, and besides the gold rings on her fingers, Vivian noticed delicate tattoos on her skin. From this distance, she couldn't see them well, but there was some kind of geometric pattern or maybe stars drawn in thin lines on the brunette's fingers. Did she hide even more of them under her long black sleeves? They were subtle, but in some way, they didn't fit the image of a wealthy girl from a good home.

"Wow, this is really delicious," the brunette admitted after another bite of salmon. "Which one of you is such a great cook?" She asked, looking at Miles since he was the one who welcomed them to the dining room.

"Unfortunately," the young man laughed in response, "it's the work of Mrs. Henderson. Nothing compares to her dishes."

"Oh, so someone else lives here?" Maybe someone who could actually be called an adult.

"Mrs. Henderson doesn't live here," Daisy interjected. "I mean, she has her own room, but she usually prefers to return to her family at night."

"So... you live here all alone?"

"More or less," Alden replied. "Most of us moved in around eighteen, but we still come back home for dinners. Although it's true, Mrs. Henderson cooks the best... as long as you don't upset her," he chuckled softly.

"Yes, just try to complain about something or leave a mess in the kitchen, and you can count on burnt toast for the next few days," Miles added. "And it's quite hard to order pizza delivery here."

The option did seem not that bad. Since they had the means to live in a huge mansion, complete with a private chef, it was no wonder they were so eager to move out of their family homes. The commute might be a bit worse, but compared to this opulence, the dormitory seemed like a shabby cell. It was clear that people envied them. Even Vivian felt a pang of envy now.

"That's quite a pleasant arrangement. Today, I almost overslept for my classes, so yesterday's bun had to do for breakfast," Vivian had a lot of questions. One in particular gnawed at her more than any other, but she decided to hold her tongue. At least for now. "This painting..." She pointed to a large golden frame in front of her, which was the central decoration on one of the walls. "...quite an interesting choice for a dining room."

The painting was impressive, both in size and detail. It depicted a lion with a flowing mane, in the midst of a battle with a huge serpent. Its claws sank into the snake's skin as it coiled around the lion's paws. The serpent's wide-open mouth exposed its gleaming fangs, as if it were about to strike at any moment. The entire composition was so dynamic that the animals seemed to almost burst out of the frame, immersed in the dark background typical of the Baroque period. The distinct, almost exaggerated details of both creatures also seemed to date the painting to that era.

"Quite brutal, isn't it?" Daisy agreed when the rest of the household glanced over their shoulders at the painting that accompanied them during their daily meals. "From what I know, it's actually the work of one of my great-great-great-grandmothers."

"Oh, do you paint too?" Vivian was interested, glancing at the blonde.

"I only draw occasionally... and they're rather pathetic scribbles."

"You must show me sometime," Vivian said with a gentle smile. She was interested in art, even more than in architecture, but artists usually didn't earn enough to live comfortably.

"There's really nothing to brag about," Daisy shook her head, trying to brush it off. "But Beatrice is a very talented painter. Bea, are you working on something new?"

Beatrice lifted her gaze from her plate, as if she had been pulled from deep contemplation.

"No," she replied shortly, taking hold of her wine glass again, cutting off the subject.

"Vivian, back to the topic of food," Miles quickly intervened in the conversation, trying to divert attention from his friend. "Have you had the chance to try burgers at Tasty Patty? It's an old diner right by the Business Department. The best on campus. I lived on them during my studies."

"I haven't had the chance yet. So... are you done with your studies?" It was hard for her to estimate the exact ages of each of the residents. They were roughly her age, maybe a bit older. Miles' neatly trimmed beard added a few years to him.

"For now, yes. I graduated in law, and currently, I'm doing an internship in my father's law firm."

"Oh..." Vivian nodded with admiration. If his father had his own law firm, it was no wonder they could afford such luxuries. Sarah's words crossed her mind again. About how a few families held the whole town in their grip. She was tempted to ask what the other parents did for a living. "Are there any other places in town worth recommending?"

Daisy immediately engaged in the conversation and described the charms of Hillcrest. She mentioned a small, slightly hidden park a few streets away from the campus, where one could enjoy a pleasant time and read a book. She also described a few charming cafes along the main street that had a unique atmosphere. Alden mentioned the Natural History Museum adjacent to the university library. As the conversation developed toward more enjoyable topics, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Vivian began to feel more comfortable in the company of the residents of Ashwood Hall. The delicious meringue dessert and more glasses of wine might have contributed to this.

"Can I ask you something?" Vivian twirled the stem of an empty glass between her fingers, slightly adjusting herself in the chair. The question had been constantly on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't find the right moment to ask it. It might come across as quite tactless in light of the hospitality she had received that day. "Why... am I actually here? Daisy, don't get me wrong," she smiled gently at the girl to her left, "I'm really grateful for the invitation, but... is there something more to it?" She looked uncertainly towards Miles. Maybe it was a matter of rumors she had heard, or the charm of an old mansion in a remote area, but the group seemed somewhat detached from the rest of society. Vivian didn't suspect they often brought almost strangers here, and she didn't know Daisy well enough to call her a friend either. She could also be way off base and inadvertently dig herself into a hole that evening.

No one rushed to respond. Oberlin looked down at the table for a moment before intertwining his fingers above his plate and looking at Vivian.

"Tell me... how much do you know about your father?"

Time suddenly stood still. Vivian's heart beat faster in her chest, and she felt as if someone had placed an enormous weight on her shoulders. She knew very little. Her mother had always avoided the topic as if it were taboo. And even though Vivian had come to town hoping to find more information about her father, or at least to understand her mother a little better by following in her footsteps, Miles' question caught her completely off guard.

"Not much... just that my mother met him while she was studying here," she said, shifting her gaze across the faces of her conversation partners, trying to read anything from them. "Why do you ask?"

Miles pressed his lips slightly, as if trying to choose the right words in his mind.

"Our residence, Ashwood Hall, has been connecting our families for generations," he said in a calm voice. "We're a certain kind of... community. Our ancestors founded this community with the idea of supporting each other, protecting common interests, and passing on knowledge and traditions. Your family... your father," he corrected himself, "is also a part of it."

Vivian looked at him in surprise. She had suspected that she was invited to the residence for a reason. She was convinced it had something to do with her scholarship since the invitation came from the dean's daughter. She was prepared for a motivational talk about the opportunities the university offered, the chance she had been given. Wealthy people sometimes had their peculiar practices of patronizing talented students. It never crossed her mind that her father could be involved in any way.

"Some might consider us peculiar," Miles continued, as if anticipating the questions swirling in her mind. "But in reality, we're just a group of close friends who take care of each other."

Vivian glanced at Beatrice, who finally raised her head and looked straight into her eyes. In her gaze, she sensed something that made her heart pound even harder.

"What's his name?" Vivian asked firmly, fixing her gaze on the silver salad dish that reflected her own distorted face.

"Michael Hamilton," the boy replied after a moment.

The answer was short but stirred a storm of emotions in Vivian. Michael Hamilton, she repeated in her mind. Her father had a name now. Everything became more real, more personal. She wondered why her mother never spoke of him directly. Why she went to such great lengths to keep her from knowing even his name.

"Hamilton... My mother always avoided the topic," she muttered to herself before suddenly looking up at Oberlin. "How do you know?"

Miles looked at her seriously, but his eyes were full of understanding.

"We have our sources... After you applied to the University, we managed to connect the dots. Michael had some strange, regularly issued checks and—"

"Wait... He knew?" Vivian placed her hands on the table, feeling her emotions starting to boil. He knew. For goodness' sake, he knew! Over the years, a million different scenarios had crossed her mind. Maybe her father had no idea she existed. Perhaps her mother avoided the topic so much because her pregnancy resulted from a one-night stand, and she didn't even know the identity of the father of her child. They knew. Both of them knew, as he was paying damn child support. "What do you mean 'had'? Where is he now?"

"Unfortunately, Michael tends to take sudden trips. Sometimes he disappears without a word," Miles chose his words carefully this time, making sure not to use the past tense. "We last saw him about a year ago, shortly after that, we lost contact."

"That's true, we haven't heard from him for a long time, but don't worry, Vivian," Daisy said, giving her a gentle smile. "He's unpredictable. I know this must be difficult for you, but we'll try to answer your questions as much as we can."

Vivian sat in silence, trying to process all the information. A moment ago, she was on the verge of exploding, but now everything seemed to calm down slowly. On the one hand, she wanted to know the truth, to learn as much about him as possible. On the other hand, the truth now seemed more complicated than she had hoped. A living father, potentially dead, certainly missing. For a moment, she even thought that maybe it would be better if he were simply dead and had left her a small part of his wealth. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her wild emotions in check. Questions, questions, questions. She had countless of them, but none seemed important enough to ask first.

"Do... does he have any family?" she finally asked uncertainly. "Do... do I have any siblings?" She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to that question. For a moment, a picture of a happy family with two little children flashed through her mind. A wife who would be angry at the news of her husband's past escapades. But could someone who could vanish without any contact maintain a picture-perfect family? Vivian had always dreamed of a younger sister, but men in her mother's life disappeared almost as quickly as they appeared.

No one rushed to answer those questions. Alden looked at Miles, hoping he would take the lead again, but this time Oberlin seemed to have forgotten how to speak. He even tried to buy himself some time, reaching for a glass of water, but he couldn't even raise his gaze to meet Vivian's.

"No," Beatrice finally broke the silence, turning suddenly towards the brunette.

"Bea!" Miles scolded her suddenly.

"Bea, she's going to find out anyway..." Alden added quietly, as if Vivian wouldn't hear it.

"Explain it yourselves then," the girl said, visibly upset, and got up from the table, heading towards the door behind Vivian.

"Beatrice!" Oberlin called after her in vain. He quickly glanced at those gathered at the table and decided to follow the brunette. "Bea!"

Vivian uncertainly watched them leave, but they disappeared in a flash, leaving the dining room in an awkward silence.

"...so?" Vivian looked at the remaining two with hope that they might be more talkative in a smaller group. Not to mention that Beatrice's reaction had worried her.

Alden straightened up on his chair and glanced towards the door.

"You need to forgive her... We lost our dear friend at the beginning of the summer," the boy spoke with difficulty. He searched for words that would be easier to pass through his throat. "Edgar..." he stuttered. "He and Beatrice were quite close."

Vivian blinked with disbelief. She had touched on a sensitive subject, but at the moment, she was more engrossed in her own thoughts. She had a brother. A brother she would never get to know. A brother who probably grew up among these people and these walls. Her gaze landed on the empty place at the head of the table.

Although she didn't expect to receive so much information today, years of contemplation and amateur research somehow prepared her for revelations about her father. Not about a recently deceased half-brother. The beginning of this summer, she repeated in her mind. How long ago could that have been? Maybe two months? Maybe if she had come to Hillcrest earlier, she would have had a chance to meet him? It had to be something drastic, sudden, to take away such a young person. Illness, or maybe an accident? She would like to ask for more details but bit her tongue.

Should she mourn him? Mourn with them someone she didn't even know. For them, he was a person, a friend, perhaps almost a family. For Vivian, he was just a name she had learned a moment ago. A lost opportunity.

For goodness' sake. A missing father, a dead brother. Some nonsense about community and support. They really are some messed-up cult.

"I think... I should be going," she said slowly, getting up from her chair, only now feeling the physical effects of all the stress. Her legs initially refused to obey her, and the tightness in her chest still hindered her breathing.

"Sure, that's understandable. Give yourself time to digest all of this," Daisy said, sending her a caring look. "If you have any questions, we're here to help."

"Thanks..." Vivian muttered. She instinctively reached for her plate and glass, then turned towards the door leading to the kitchen.

"Oh, you can leave those. We'll clean up," the blonde girl tried to stop her, but Vivian was already halfway there. "We'll take care of it."

"It's okay, no problem. You've hosted me, so let me do at least this much."

She knew she had to catch Miles, as he was the one who was supposed to drive her back to town. With a little effort, she managed to deal with the doors that opened into another corridor. Only at its end, behind slightly ajar doors, the light from the room spilled out. Vivian paused as she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Still hidden in the darkness of the hallway, she took a few careful and quiet steps. She tried to eavesdrop on the conversation of the two who had left the dining room so dramatically. Maybe it wasn't appropriate to eavesdrop, but she still didn't feel safe in the residence, despite the apparent hospitality of its inhabitants. She was sure they were still hiding a lot.

"When are you going to tell her?" Vivian easily recognized Beatrice's voice. She seemed calmer now, and her previously barely audible French accent had gained a bit more strength.

"I don't know..." Miles muttered. "She already has enough to digest today. Damn Michael... He should be here explaining himself."

"If Michael could sit his ass down, we wouldn't be in this situation now," the girl emphasized. Although both were out of Vivian's sight, and she didn't want to step beyond the threshold of the hallway, the sound of Beatrice's heels indicated that she was slowly pacing around the room. "She shouldn't be here."

"You know we have no other options. Just try to pretend at least a bit."

"I tried, believe me," the girl finally stopped. "But, Miles... she has his eyes." The clear pain in Beatrice's voice made Vivian swallow softly.

"I know," the boy admitted with regret. "I secretly hoped they would be completely different, and they actually are, but... it's hard not to see the similarities."

That had to be enough. Vivian couldn't hide in the shadows any longer, eavesdropping on the longing she couldn't fully understand even if she wanted to. A strange sense of guilt began to grow within her, as if her mere presence in this house was reopening their still unhealed wounds. She didn't want to be here any longer. Maybe more for her sake than theirs.

She cleared her throat softly and gently pushed the slightly ajar door, entering the kitchen. Instantly, she felt the gaze of both occupants on her. She chose the nearest corner of the counter to place the dishes she had brought. She clasped her hands together, nervously fidgeting with her fingers, and looked in Oberlin's direction.

"If possible, I'd like to leave now."

"Of course," Miles nodded and pointed to another door in the kitchen that would lead her to the exit quicker. He followed Vivian shortly, but glanced back over his shoulder at Beatrice, who had once again shifted her gaze away, this time to one of the windows.

[ With a slight delay, but another chapter is finally here. I hope it somewhat makes up in length, so applause to those who made it to the end. The plot finally thickens and there are finally almost all of my kiddos.
We're struggling to close the project at work, so there's a gentle grind, but I'm trying not to give up in my resolve for regular chapters, but due to delays with this one, the next one may not appear until next week.

Be sure to let me know what you think :> ]