Chapter 4: The Eighth Room

Gold-cross aunt hustles her bridge buddies away, barking, "Don’t bother the lady! She’s working!" right as the house manager finally appears.

Derek clears his throat and says, "No need. I’ll take Ms. Harper upstairs myself."

I arch an eyebrow.

He meets my gaze, suddenly serious. "Ms. Harper, I misjudged you. If I offended you earlier, I apologize."

I wave it off. "Happens to the best of us. I didn’t believe your math, either."

We head up the spiral staircase, the plush carpet swallowing our footsteps, into a sunlit hallway lined with rooms on one side and oil paintings on the other.

Derek walks stiffly, his voice tense as piano wire. "Ms. Harper, let me show you the rooms, one by one. Maybe you’ll spot something I missed."

We move side by side, counting doors.

He explains, slow and careful: "Starting left of the stairs, these four rooms belong to Emily’s adoptive dad, adoptive mom, biological dad, and biological mom. Her birth dad’s a Johnson, adoptive dad’s a Lane. You met them downstairs."

"Room five’s Emily’s adoptive older sister, Lane Madison."

"Room six, Emily’s mentee, Taylor Young."

"Room seven, the master bedroom—mine."

"And the last one, the eighth, is my younger sister Nora’s."

"So, eight people, eight rooms. But this house only ever had seven bedrooms—identical size, identical layout. I’ve counted over and over. Sometimes there are eight rooms, sometimes… just seven."

"When does it drop to seven?" I ask, voice low.

"It’s never the same. The first time I noticed, I counted seven. But when I brought in a home inspector, there were eight."

I close my eyes, letting my mind slip wide open—past the heavy air, past the sound of distant thunder, out to the hydrangeas in the yard, the pool, the summer wind pressing against the glass.

Suddenly, I open my eyes. I tip my head at Derek.

"We’re about to get a storm."

Derek glances at me, unsettled. "What?"

I smile gently. "Let’s count again—just the doors."

With Sight spread out, everything sharpens: edges, intentions, the things that lurk in the background of ordinary life. I take a deep breath and nod for him to follow.

We walk the hall together, counting out loud. "One, two, three..."

"Seven."

The hallway goes dead quiet. Derek’s breath hitches, his voice barely a whisper.

"See, Ms. Harper? Seven again! I’m not crazy."

"No," I say, slow and steady. "This house has always been seven rooms."

I look at Derek, shoulders squared. "Mr. Mason, you’ve got one extra family member."