We stumbled into the middle of a nightmare. The house was alive with movement - servants bustled through the halls, carrying trays of food; a little girl in a lace dress skipped past us, humming a soft tune. But the joy felt wrong, as though it was just a thin veil hiding something sinister.

"That's her," Rena whispered, pointing to the girl.

I froze. The girl in the photo - the one who looked like me - was right in front of us. She held the same locket around her neck, the small charm glinting in the candlelight.

"Amelia, she looks alike to you," Tom said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before I could respond, a man stormed into the room. His presence sucked the air out of the space. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was handsome in a cold, sharp way. But his eyes - those sunken, hollow eyes - made my stomach twist.

"That's the monster," I whispered.

Except he wasn't monstrous yet.

"Eleanor!" the man barked, his voice booming. A woman in an elegant black dress appeared, her face pale and her movements stiff.

"Yes, Victor?" she said, her voice trembling.

Victor's face contorted into a cruel smile. "Where is the fortune, Eleanor? Where did you hide it?"

"I told you," she said, her voice barely audible. "It's gone."

Victor's hand lashed out, striking her across the face. The sound echoed through the room, and I flinched.

"This is getting worse by the second," Tom muttered, his knuckles white as he gripped my arm.

But I couldn't look away.