Chapter 7: The Address without a Name...

A single address -no name,no explanation. Sometimes,the unknown is more terrifying than the truth. But I couldn't turn back now. The answers I soughted for were just ahead, waiting in the shadows.

The carriage rocked gently as we sped through the dimly lit streets. The slip of paper in my hand felt heavier than it should be. My fingers traced over the inked address as I memorized each curve and stroke of the letters,my mind running wild with possibilities.

"Are we really doing this?"Lillian asked, arms crossed tightly as she studied me. I didn't answer immediately. My thoughts were still tangled with everything that had happened in the past few hours - Jonathan's cryptic warning, Carter Whitemore's name resurfacing, and now this :An address without explanation.

"Do you think it's a trap?"Lillian pressed again.

I exhaled,my breath fogging against the window. "I don't know. But we need to find out."

Lillian shook her head, muttering under her breath. "We should have brought a gun."

I almost smiled at that. "Do you even know how to use a gun?"

She shot me a look. "No. But I would have figured it out."

The thought was almost amusing,but amusement had no place in our reality. The air between us was thick with unspoken fear, the kind that curled at the edges of our thoughts, whispering of worst case scenarios.

The streets outside grew unfamiliar. The lively merchant district had faded behind us, replaced by narrower roads and dimly lit alleyways. The buildings here were older,their brick facades worn out, their windows dark and shuttered as if the world inside had long given up on hope.

The driver pulled the carriage to a slow stop. "This is the place,ma'ma,"he said gruffly.

Lillian and I exchanged a glance. Neither of us moved at first. The air outside felt too still,too heavy. The street was empty - no pedestrians,no light spilling from the windows of the surrounding buildings. It was as if this place had been forgotten by time.

Finally, I took a deep breath and stepped down from the carriage. Lillian followed,her footsteps hesitant, mirroring the weight in my chest.

We stood before a small, unmarked building. It wasn't what I expected. No grand estate,no ominous warehouse. Just a modest brick structure with a single wooden and shuttered windows.

Lillian glanced around. "Are we sure this is the right place?"

I looked at the paper again, comparing it to the barely visible street sign. "It matches."

A lump formed in my throat as I stared at the door. My instincts screamed at me to turn around,to walk away and never look back. But if I did, I would be walking away from the only clue I had.

We walked up to the door, pausing just before it. My heart pounded against my ribs.

Lillian whispered,"what now?"

I hesitated. Then, before I could over think it, I knocked.

A long silence followed.

I knocked again.

Still nothing.

"Maybe no one is home,"Lillian murdered. Or maybe they are waiting, watching. A chill ran down my spine.

I tested the handle. It turned easily.

Lillian's eyes widened. "Everly,no...." But I have already pushed the door open.

The room smelled of old wood and something metallic. An oil lamp flickered on a desk at the far end, it's weak light casting long shadows. Shelves lined the walls and losse papers every where. It looked less like a home and more like a study than a hide out.

Lillian hovered near the entrance. "I hate this. I really hate this."

I stepped forward cautiously,my gaze scanning the room. Someone had been here recently. The ink on some of the papers looked fresh. The chair behind the desk was slightly askew,as if someone had left in a hurry.

Then I saw it - a single sheet of paper resting on top the desk, separate from the clutter.

I picked it up.

Lillian moved closer. "What is it?"

The paper contained a list of names.vmy heart caught as I read the first few:

Daniel Lancaster

John Blackwood

Adam calloway

Victor Hart

My fingers trembled. My husbands name. I scanned further down the list - more names,all unfamiliar. But at the bottom,in slightly darker ink,was one final name

Everly Lancaster.

My blood turned cold.

Lillian saw it at the same time I did.

"Everly..."

Before I could respond,a floorboard creaked behind us.

We were not alone

I spun around,my heart in my throat. A figure stood in the doorway - a man,helf-hidden in the dim light.

Lillian grabbed my arm. "Who--"

The man stepped forward,and the lamp's glow illuminated his face

Carter Whitemore.

He looked older than I remembered,his features sharper, his eyes weary. He studied me for a moment before speaking.

"You should not have come here."

I tightened my grip on the paper. "Then why give me the address?"

Carter exhaled. "Because you deserve to know the truth. But the truth will put you in more danger than you realize."

He hesitated. Then, finally,he said "they weren't accidents, Everly. None of them. Your husbands were murdered."

Silence pressed around us. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.

I had known - Jonathan also said the same thing. But hearing it spoken aloud shattered something inside me.

Lillian took a sharp breath beside me,her grip on my arm tightening. "Who? Who did this?"

Carter's expression darkened. "That's exactly what we need to find out. And we don't have much time."

My mind reeled. If my husbands had been murdered,it means someone had orchestrated everything.it meant that whoever was behind it wasn't done yet. And if my name was on that list,it means am next.