I walked through the quiet hallways of the house, searching for any sign of Gwenneth. But after checking the living room, the kitchen, even her private study, there was no trace of my stepsister. It looked like she really was gone on some urgent business.
I stopped in front of my bedroom door. A wave of reluctance washed over me the moment my hand touched the doorknob. As the door swung open, a damp, musty atmosphere hit my nostrils, forcing me to catch my breath.
The sight that greeted me was pathetic. This room was a graveyard for my former self, cobwebs hung in the corners, and signs of insect life were everywhere. Dirty clothes were strewn about, mixed with food wrappers and junk I couldn't even remember touching.
This was the room where the pitiable Adam Socheron had lived and suffered for years—a space that held all the bitter memories of humiliation, loneliness, and despair.
