Spring's Hiding in the Foggy Courtyard

“Zachary had no choice. Mistress Angela said the child was a curse. If it was born, it would bring calamity upon our family… Just think—Savannah got pregnant right around the time the old master fell ill!”

“Savannah must never know. I know I wronged her and the child, but I don’t regret it.”

Zachary’s voice was low and hoarse, yet unnervingly firm. “I never cared about having children. All I want is to—”

“But *I* cared!” Savannah’s voice cut him off as she pushed the study door open.

She stood in the doorway, face streaked with tears, eyes swollen and raw. A violent tremor seized her, her whole body shaking with rage, shock, and betrayal.

“Because of something that woman said, you… you killed our child behind my back? Zachary, how could you be so cruel? So blind!”

“It’s not cruelty or blindness! I just want us to be okay—to be together, always!”

Zachary stepped forward urgently, reaching for her hand, but Savannah jerked away.

She shook her head hard, her mind reeling, thoughts colliding in panic.

She didn’t understand. How could he trust a woman he’d known for barely two months—a woman with her fabricated tales of fate and fortune—over the one he’d loved for years?

Angela chose that moment to glide into view, seemingly oblivious to the suffocating tension. Her gaze settled on Zachary, soft and gentle.

“Zachary, it’s time. We should leave… Savannah should come too. After all, everything we’ve done is, ultimately, for her sake.”

Savannah never imagined their destination would be her old family home.

In the clearing before the front gate, an altar stood ready, laden with offerings and ritual tools.

A cold gust of wind carried the acrid, overwhelming smell of gasoline. Savannah’s eyes widened in horror. The old house, inside and out, was drenched in it. The courtyard lay piled high with kindling and flammable junk.

“The dead have poisoned this ground with their lingering resentment. Purification by fire is the only way.”

Angela had changed into ceremonial robes. With a dramatic sweep of her sleeve, she turned a cool, detached gaze on Savannah. “That is to say, I will burn it. Perhaps this can finally break the curse you were born under.”

“This is *my home*! You have no right to burn it! This is a crime!”

Savannah fumbled for her phone, intent on calling the police. A bodyguard lunged forward, snatched it from her grasp, and hurled it into the heart of the old house.

Savannah stared at Zachary—the one who’d given the order—disbelief choking her. “This is where I grew up. It holds every memory I have of my parents. You killed my child, and now you want to burn the last connection I have to them? Burn my home?”

“Savannah, baby, your home is with me, isn’t it?”

Zachary’s voice was gentle, weaving the most vicious words. “In the end, it’s just an old, empty house. Let it burn. I’ve already bought you a villa worth over a hundred million. Prime location, top-tier finishes.”

He produced the title to the villa, bearing only Savannah’s name, and held it out to her.

Tears streamed down Savannah’s face, spattering the crimson cover of the document. Her hands shook as she grabbed fistfuls of Zachary’s shirt, her voice breaking into a desperate plea.

“No! I don’t want the villa! I just want this house! Zachary, I’m begging you… I’ve never begged you for anything, this is the first time! Please, just let the house stand. Leave it be, and I’ll do anything. *Anything*.”

She looked so fragile, as if made of glass that might crack at any moment. The cold resolve in Zachary’s eyes softened for a moment.

He started to lift a hand to wipe her tears, but Angela’s voice, cool and impatient, cut through from behind him. She held a ceremonial dagger.

“Zachary. We’ll miss our window.”

“…Then begin.” Zachary’s hand fell. He gritted his teeth and gave the order.

The words were barely out of his mouth before Angela eagerly raised the dagger, skewered a bundle of paper talismans scrawled with incantations, lit them on a red candle, and flung them toward the old house.

The burning papers instantly ignited the pile of kindling at the doorstep.

In the blink of an eye, flames erupted and raced across the structure, hungrily devouring the old home, fueled by the wind.

“NO!” Savannah’s scream tore from her throat, raw and ragged. She lunged forward, throwing herself toward the blazing inferno.