Perilous Tides

The old villa by the sea was Clara Oakes' home in name, but I could never shake the feeling that countless unseen eyes were hidden within its walls. My stepsister Clara Oakes stood on the beach like a wild fire that refused to be extinguished, drenched from head to toe, her voice thick with the salt of the sea. She rushed over and told me something had been swept away by the waves, her eyes brimming with panic. I assumed it was some valuable piece of jewelry, until the moment she grabbed my wrist—only then did I realize what she had lost was far more intimate than I could have imagined. The villa sat there like a silent beast, swallowing all our secrets whole, and the real danger was only just beginning.