SHROUDED IN SECRETS

The door to Grimshaw's office clicked shut with a weighty finality, sealing her in the dimly lit room. A heavy silence stretched between the walls, save for the faint ticking of the grandfather clock standing in the corner. The scent of aged wood and the faintest hint of ink filled the air, but none of it could mask the metallic stench of blood still lingering in her nostrils.

She remained standing, her hands pressed flat against the surface of her desk, her breath measured but shallow. Composure, discipline, control. These were the principles she lived by. These were the values that had kept the school in pristine condition for years. But tonight—tonight was different.

The library.

The bodies.

"The debt is being paid."

A cryptic warning, scrawled in thick, drying blood across the lifeless bodies of Alexander and Celeste. A message that unsettled her more than the corpses themselves. Who left it? And why?

She straightened, smoothing down the front of her dress with cold precision before sinking into her chair. The leather creaked slightly beneath her weight. She intertwined her fingers, resting her hands on the desk as her mind raced through the implications.

Outside, muffled voices carried through the walls—students chatting, some laughing, others whispering about their travel plans. Trunks dragged against the floor, suitcases thumped down the stairs, and the occasional bark of a teacher keeping order could be heard in the distance.

The school was alive with departure.

And she had only a few hours before disaster set in.

Her eyes flickered toward the telephone on her desk. There was still time. No one outside of her and—**whoever left that message—**knew about the bodies yet. If she moved fast, she could control the narrative.

She reached for the receiver, her fingers wrapping around it, then hesitated. Who do I call?

The police were out of the question. A murder investigation would ruin everything. The board members? No. They would panic. The janitors? Possibly. But they would talk, and whispers had a way of evolving into storms.

A sharp knock at the door broke her thoughts.

She inhaled deeply before schooling her expression into one of mild impatience. "Enter."

The door opened slightly, revealing Mrs. Lancaster, one of the senior faculty members. She peered in, hesitant, her face lined with concern.

"Miss Grimshaw," she started cautiously, stepping inside. "The cleaning staff needs your approval before locking up the library for the term."

Grimshaw's grip on the armrest tightened. The library.

She allowed a thin smile. "The library will not be closed just yet."

Lancaster frowned. "But the schedule—"

"I will handle it." Her voice left no room for argument.

The woman hesitated, then nodded. "Of course, ma'am."

"That will be all."

Lancaster left without another word.

Grimshaw exhaled sharply. Time was slipping away.

Her gaze fell to the locked drawer of her desk. Slowly, she reached into her pocket and retrieved the small brass key. The lock clicked open with a quiet snap. Inside, among neatly stacked papers, lay a small, unmarked notebook.

She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the scribbled notes until she found what she needed—a name. A number. A private contact she had never thought she would have to use.

But tonight required desperate measures.

She picked up the phone, dialed the number, and pressed the receiver to her ear.

The line rang once. Twice.

Then a deep voice answered. "This is a private line."

Grimshaw spoke evenly. "I require a clean-up."

A pause. Then, "Location?"

"The library. Two bodies."

Another pause. Then the voice responded, "It will be handled. Two hours."

A soft click signaled the end of the call.

She placed the receiver down gently, her fingers lingering for a moment before she closed her eyes. It is done.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

A low rumble of thunder echoed outside, the scent of rain beginning to creep through the air. The wind howled faintly against the glass panes of her office, rattling them ever so slightly. It was as if the world itself sensed the darkness stirring within these walls.

She stood and walked to the window, staring down at the school grounds. The old stone pathways glistened under the dim moonlight, the statues of past headmasters standing tall and unyielding in the garden below.

For over a century, this institution had been untouchable. A beacon of excellence.

She would ensure it remained that way.

No matter the cost.