Night hung heavy. Torrential rain poured down like a rampaging beast, its dense strands weaving an endless curtain that blotted out the view and blurred everything around them.
Bang, bang, bang!
Urgent knocks broke the silence. Mia Mammon sprang from the sofa and hurried to the door. She pulled it open to find her son, Aldrich Mammon, standing outside, soaked to the skin and looking miserable.
"Aldrich, what happened? Come in, quickly!" Mia pulled him inside and grabbed a dry towel, gently wiping the rain from his hair and cheeks.
"What happened?" she asked, concerned by his dazed expression.
"Ella... Ella's dead." Aldrich's voice was faint and trembling, every word weighed down by grief. "This morning, after I left... someone killed her."
The news jolted Mia. Her gaze drifted toward the study, and a complicated expression crossed her face: surprise mixed with a trace of joy she could barely conceal.
"Where's Father? Isn't he home?" Aldrich seemed not to notice her expression. His vacant eyes were filled with fear and confusion.
"I'm here." Third Bishop Ezekiel Mammon descended the stairs from the second floor, his face dark as a storm cloud.
"Father, Ella died this morning!" Aldrich looked up at him, helplessness and pleading in his voice.
"I heard you!" Ezekiel frowned, his voice hard. "So what? Did you come back just to tell us that? Or do you suspect I killed her?"
"Aldrich, you must understand," Mia said firmly. "Your father, Ezekiel Mammon, would never kill Ella Smith. How could you suspect him of something so absurd?"
Ezekiel glanced at his wife. He knew Mia, too, had mistakenly assumed he had killed Ella Smith that morning.
"May I see your Wand, Father?" Aldrich stared at the Wand in Ezekiel's hand.
"Aldrich," Ezekiel said, his voice cold and low, "do