As they reached the door to Chad Doherty’s room, Skylar suddenly stopped in her tracks.
“Let’s check on Mrs. Doherty first,” she said.
Frank was momentarily surprised but quickly nodded. “Alright.”
They turned and headed in a different direction. Just as they were about to enter another room, a maid stepped out, bowing respectfully to Frank.
“I just gave Mrs. Doherty the medicine as the doctor instructed, but she’s still not feeling well,” the maid said with concern. “She keeps complaining about headaches and pain in her legs.”
Frank sighed. “Alright, go on with your work.”
He opened the door and looked back at Skylar. “Grace has been like this for a while now. Constant headaches and leg pain.”
Skylar followed him in. “Has the medication helped at all?” she asked gently.
“It only dulls the headaches a bit,” Frank replied with a weary sigh. “Nothing more.”
Inside the room, Grace Tanner lay under a quilt, her frail frame barely filling the space around her. Her face was pale, her hair almost completely gray. Her eyes were closed, but her brows were furrowed, and her lips pressed tightly together. Even in sleep, she was visibly in pain.
She trembled faintly, as though her body couldn’t find peace, not even in rest.
Frank walked over to the bed, watching his wife silently suffer. His eyes welled with emotion. Joe stood quietly behind Skylar, watching her observe everything with quiet intensity.
Just then, the door creaked open again.
“Dad? Do we have guests or—M-Mr. Martin?”
Frank turned and frowned at the newcomer—his youngest son, Nigel Doherty. “Go wait downstairs,” he instructed curtly.
Nigel blinked in surprise, then glanced curiously at Joe and Skylar before nodding. “Alright.” Without another word, he stepped back out and closed the door.
After Nigel left, Frank turned to Skylar, his voice quiet but sincere. “Skye, Gloria asked me not to tell anyone about you and Joe just yet. She wants to make a formal announcement. So for now, I won’t introduce you to the rest of the family.”
Skylar nodded. “That’s fine. I understand.”
Frank then gestured toward Joe. “Sit down and rest, Joe.”
Joe gave a small nod and took a seat at the side of the room.
Frank’s gaze shifted back to Skylar, filled with hope. “Skye, can you see what’s going on with Grace?”
Skylar didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked toward a nearby walk-in closet. One of the walls was glass, offering a clear view of the clothes inside. Her eyes landed on a particular item—a traditional dress.
“Is this the traditional dress Mrs. Doherty bought as a collectible?” she asked.
Frank stepped closer, puzzled by her question. “No, that one wasn’t a collectible. Nigel gave it to her for her birthday. She loved it. Used to wear it often before she got sick. But in the last couple of days, she hasn’t touched it—just left it in the closet.”
Skylar narrowed her eyes. The dress stood out—not because of its beauty, but because of what lay hidden beneath it. It was finely made, with shimmering gold thread and pearls that gleamed under the light. Most people wouldn’t look past the ornamentation, but Skylar was focused on the intricate patterns woven into the fabric.
Joe walked over to her, sensing the shift in her mood. “Is something wrong with the dress?”
Frank looked startled. “What do you mean something’s wrong?”
“I believe it’s more than just a dress,” Skylar replied. She opened the closet and gently lifted the garment from the rack.
Under the lights, the gold thread glistened, and the pearls shimmered brilliantly. To an ordinary eye, it was a gorgeous piece—luxurious, tasteful, and rare.
But Skylar’s gaze wasn’t on the pearls. She was fixated on the woven pattern—an ancient seal, subtle and deceptive, but unmistakably saturated with negative energy.
It wasn’t decorative. It was deliberate.
And it explained why the pearls hadn’t dulled despite the dress’s age.
It wasn’t just fabric—it was a conduit for something far more sinister.
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