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Matt leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Before we get into that, can I ask—what happened the other night? I ran into Mason’s crew at the Harbor Inn at the height of the storm. They were trying to get rooms because the ferry wasn’t running. They said they were done, and that you’d thrown them out. But that was about all I could get out of them.”
Amy hesitated. All eyes turned to her.
“Sounded like things went sideways,” he continued.
“That’s one way to put it,” she said finally, letting out a slow breath. “Things did go sideways.”
In halting pieces, she told them what had happened—the staged sequence Mason insisted on, how he’d pushed her into one last scene on the roof, how it had gone wrong. She told them about the sleepwalking too, about waking up in places she didn’t remember reaching, about the footage Mason had captured and threatened to use.
The silence that followed was thick and electric.
“That bastard,” Mac muttered, slamming his mug down. “Sully, I’m surprised Mason’s still breathing.”
“Amy had other ideas,” Sully replied, palms upward.
Kelsey’s jaw tightened, her face pale. “You could’ve been killed, Amy.”
“She almost was,” Sully said quietly. “The railing gave way.”
Kelsey turned to him sharply. “On the widow’s walk?”
He nodded. “We’re lucky she’s standing here now.”
Matt shook his head. “I knew Mason was pushy, but that’s insane. We should make sure he pays dearly.”
“My attorney is handling it,” Amy said. “He’s already called the network’s legal team. If anyone from the show or the network reaches out to you, please refer them back to Delaney.”
Kelsey still looked shaken. “You’ve never sleepwalked before. People usually experience that after something traumatic. Do you have any idea what caused it? What if it happens again?”
Amy rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. It’s not like I can will it to stop.”
“I’ve had an alarm installed to wake her before she can leave the house,” Sully added.
That drew a silence, broken only when Kaitlin said softly, “Amy, what about… everything else? The energy in this place. The pull it has on you. You can’t pretend it’s not affecting you.”
Amy met her gaze across the table. “You think it’s paranormal.”
Kaitlin hesitated. “The ghost hunters had some pretty believable recordings, and I know what I saw. I think something is here. It’s effecting you. Maybe it’s time to talk to Rhiannon again or another medium not connected to the show—let her help you figure it out rather than fighting it alone.”
Amy wanted to protest, but the words stuck in her throat. They all waited.
“I don’t want this to be about ghosts anymore,” she said finally. “But maybe that’s the wrong approach. Maybe acknowledging all of it—the pain, the secrets, the supposed hauntings—is part of the truth. Rhiannon might be the right person to help integrate that into what we’re doing, instead of denying it.”
Kaitlin nodded slowly. “If there’s a way to put the past to rest instead of ignoring it, we should take it.”
Amy looked around the group. Beneath the concern and fear, she saw loyalty in their faces—people who hadn’t given up on her.
“That’s why I brought you all here,” she said. “This mansion has a dark history: Blackwell, Verity, Whitaker. But I don’t want us to bury that. I want to use it. We tell the real story—both the good and the terrible—and build something that makes sense of it. A place for healing, history, and honesty.”
Kaitlin smiled faintly. “Just like Verity’s original plan.”
“Exactly.”
Kelsey reached for Amy across the table. “Then let’s start by making sure you have some refuge too. Call Rhiannon. If she can help you make peace with whatever’s still here, we’ll all benefit.”
Amy squeezed her sister’s hand, emotion swelling in her chest. “I will.”
For the first time in days, Amy smiled.
