Bill Cavanaugh is nearly eighty years old, and he's only telling this story because three kids with cameras and a YouTube channel are about to get themselves killed.

He was eight when his father took the groundskeeper job at Greyson Manor. A hollowed-out veteran who couldn't hold a wrench steady. The estate was vast, cold, and ruled by a woman everyone in the village avoided. Lady Greyson. Married at seventeen to a man who treated her like property. Pale. Sharp. Eyes that saw through walls.

She was kind to Bill. Biscuits in the kitchen. Permission to explore. A mother figure for a motherless boy. He gave her a smooth river stone from the creek, and she held it like he'd handed her a diamond.

Three days after Bill walked in on Mr. Greyson striking her, the man was found hanging from the chandelier.

What Lady Greyson became  ...