There was something in Mrs. Turner’s demeanor—something unsettling. Her hands clutched a small object, glinting in the dim light—an heirloom pocket watch, Grace realized, its gold surface catching the glow. With each swing of the watch in Mrs. Turner’s hands, Ethan seemed to sink deeper into a state of hypnosis, his responses mechanical and devoid of emotion.

Grace’s mind whirled with confusion. Was this some ritual? A nightly trance orchestrated by a mother clinging desperately to the past? Or was it something darker, a pact bound by secrets Grace was never meant to understand?

Suddenly, Mrs. Turner’s voice rose, clear and commanding, shattering the hum of the storm. “He must stay,” she declared with a finality that sent chills down Grace’s spine. Ethan replied in a monotone, “I must stay.” The watch swung like a pendulum, and Mrs. Turner’s eyes gleamed with a fervent intensity.