She bought the Montreux Estate on instinct—drawn to its towering marble pillars, flawless garden, and price too good to be true. The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. But she liked quiet.

No one told her a man had died there.

On her third night, unable to sleep, she wandered into the moonlit garden. That’s when she saw him—tall, broad-shouldered, standing among the roses like a memory that refused to fade. His storm-grey eyes met hers.

“You can see me,” he said, surprised.

She nodded, breath caught in her throat. “Who are you?”

“Lexington Caelan Drex,” he said. “This was my home. I was murdered here. Unjustly.”

His voice was smooth, heavy with old sorrow.

“My fortune’s still hidden... locked by a password only I knew. Now, you’re the first to see me. In nineteen years.”

She should’ve run. But something in her chest told her she’d been brought here for a reason.