Chapter 4

The lights in the room flickered, and the cup on the table jitters.

Hadden looked like he was trying to say something, but it was as if some invisible power was holding him back, keeping his words muddled and out of reach.

The more frantic he got, the warier I became.

I made up my mind to dig into this house first. I tracked down the real estate agent who'd rented me the place, Alfie.

I asked him to meet me at a nearby café, using the excuse that I wanted to talk about renewing my lease.

Alfie was as warm and friendly as ever, his smile genuine and his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ms. Clarke, how's the place treating you? I told you, that house's got a great location and layout.

"It's just... Something happened there before, and most people can't really handle it. Seeing how great you look, I knew it wouldn't be a problem for you."

"It's been pretty good," I replied with a smile, casually bringing it up. "I'm just a bit curious—what really happened to the house before? I checked online, but all I found was a vague news article saying the owner died in an accident."

Alfie took a sip of his coffee, and I caught a flicker of something in his eyes. "Oh, that's all in the past. Just an accident, nothing more. Young people like you shouldn't overthink it. Just enjoy living there.

"That house's got good vibes, you know? Look at you—you've only been there a short while, and you've already landed a better job. Things are definitely looking up for you!"

Alfie smoothly steered the conversation away, constantly urging me not to dwell on it or dig any deeper.

But right now, his enthusiasm struck me as strangely out of place—an unsettling kind of creepiness. 'A normal real estate agent would only care about rent and contracts.

'Why was he so fixated on my "mental health," persistently trying to keep me from learning about the house's past?'

This meeting didn't put my mind at ease—in fact, it ramped my suspicion all the way up.

That night, I had a nightmare that filled me with pure dread.

In my dream, I was standing in a thick, suffocating fog, unable to make out anything around me.

I heard a voice—familiar yet somehow strange—shouting in a heated argument. It was Hadden.

His voice was thick with anger and disappointment. He shouted, "I treated you like a brother, and you actually touched that money. Alfie, are you out of your mind?"

Another man's voice came through, muffled but laced with desperation and a harsh edge. "Hadden, just help me one last time—please! I promise, after this, I'll patch up the hole."

"Absolutely not. That's the client's money. Do you realize that's a crime?" Hadden shot back.

Alfie said, "So what, you want to force me into a corner?"

The argument kept spiraling, voices getting louder—then suddenly, there was a deep, heavy thud, and something hit the floor hard.

Right after that, an unnerving silence swallowed everything.

I jolted awake, heart racing, my back cold and clammy. That dream was terrifyingly real. Alfie... It was his name that Hadden shouted in my dream.

I switched on the light and saw that the study door was slightly ajar. I could've sworn I'd shut it tight before going to bed.

I stepped inside and found the locked drawer at the bottom of the desk had somehow been popped open.

Inside, a black leather diary was just sitting there, like it had been waiting for me.

My heart skipped a beat. 'Is Hadden the one leading me?'

I reached out with shaking hands and opened the diary.

Most of the diary was about finance, investments, and all sorts of daily matters. The handwriting looked just like the note he'd left me—elegant, yet sharp and commanding.

I skimmed through the pages, and finally, in the later entries, I kept noticing a certain name abbreviation, "A".

The diary described how Hadden and his business partner, 'A', had teamed up for an investment project.

Later, Hadden found out that "A" had been embezzling a huge chunk of their funds, secretly dumping it all into risky crypto schemes—and blew it, dragging them into a massive financial black hole.

Hadden wrote in his diary, "I can't believe A could betray me like this. All those years of trust—worth nothing now, wiped out by pure greed.

"I've got to make him face the consequences, no matter what it costs."

This was the last entry in his diary.

The date? Exactly one day before Hadden's so-called "accidental" death made the headlines.

'A……Alfie.' A chill ran through me, my blood turning cold in an instant.

I clutched the diary and stepped into the living room, my voice shaking as I called out to the empty room, "Hadden, was it Alfie who killed you?"

The instant the words left my lips, the temperature inside plummeted.

The crystal chandelier above began to shudder violently, bulbs sputtering and sizzling with electricity, as if they might burst at any moment.

Paintings slammed to the floor, shattering with a shrieking crash. I'd never seen anything like it—this was his most explosive reaction yet.

This wasn't anger—it was a hatred that cut straight to the bone, resentment that had festered in the shadows for way too long.

That was all the proof I needed. Hadden's death wasn't an accident. He'd been murdered.

And the one still roaming free—the killer hiding behind that harmless, friendly grin—was Alfie, the real estate agent who always smiled so warmly at me.