Herbert's personal quarters felt nothing like the rest of the mansion.
The air was different here—still, heavy, as though whatever secrets Herbert kept had soaked into the walls and refused to leave.
The space was split into two large rooms: a bedroom to the left, and an office space to the right, each with its own adjoining bathroom. It didn't feel like rooms inside a home; it felt like a sealed-off miniature apartment, built for privacy, for solitude, for work.
Ewan veered toward the bedroom without a word, the tension in his shoulders telling Athena he was bracing for whatever he might find.
Athena turned the opposite way, toward the office. Her heartbeat was steady—too steady. That only meant she was forcing herself to remain calm, to not be overly expectant.
The office was dimly lit, one of the bulbs flickering faintly overhead. It smelled faintly of cologne and old paper.
