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Anna glanced at the gleaming metal doors of the elevator tucked discreetly into the wall—modern, seamless, and completely out of place among the estate’s antique charm.

“Everything else?” Charles continued. “Cosmetic changes. Paint, paneling, chandeliers. But the layout? The bones? Still the same as it was a decade ago.”

Russo gave a low hum of acknowledgement, eyes scanning the hallway ahead.

Anna looked around as they walked, her voice quiet but curious. “Are all these rooms occupied right now?”

Charles shook his head. “No, not at the moment. It’s the off-season—quietest time of the year, really. Only a handful of guests scattered across the floors. You’ll have plenty of space to think.”

They continued their slow tour up to the fifth floor. Just like the third and fourth, it bore the same blend of preserved structure and modern refinement—arched doorways, long hallways softened with velvet runners, and windows that framed the sprawling grounds outside.

As they made their way down the fifth-floor corridor, Anna’s eyes caught on a door that stood out from the rest—it had no number, no plaque, nothing to indicate what it was.

She stopped and pointed. “What’s that room?”

Charles followed her gaze, then gave a casual nod. “Ah, that one. It’s the janitor’s room. Just a small utility space—cleaning supplies, extra linens, that sort of thing. There’s a bed in there too, in case a staff member ever needs to stay overnight. But it’s rarely used. Most of our staff live nearby.”

Anna’s eyes lingered on the door a moment longer before she nodded and continued walking. Something about it unsettled her, though she couldn’t yet say why.

Charles noticed Anna’s curiosity and gave a polite smile. “Would you like to take a look inside?”

She nodded "That would be great", and he stepped forward to unlock the door. The room creaked open, and he flicked on the lights.