My family laughed when I arrived alone at my sister’s wedding, and my father made sure everyone heard him say, “She couldn’t even find a date.” A few minutes later, after he shoved me into the fountain and the applause finally faded, I looked him straight in the eye. “Remember this moment.” Because the secret I had protected for three years was already walking toward the ballroom doors.

The maid of honor, whose name was Emily, collapsed onto the grass. Paramedics rushed over, but she waved them away, clutching the lockbox. "I need to speak to Clara Hart," she rasped, coughing violently. I pushed my way through the crowd, Julian close behind me. "I'm Clara," I said, kneeling beside her. "What are you doing here?" Emily looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears and guilt. "Ryan sent me," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "He knew about the sanitarium. He knew your mother was here." I stared at her, the confusion mounting. "Why would Ryan send you?" I demanded. "He wanted to save her," Emily cried, tears streaking through the soot on her face. "He wanted to use her as leverage against your father, to get his money back." She shoved the lockbox into my hands. "He told me to find this box. He said it had everything we needed." "But when I got inside, the fire started," she sobbed. "Someone else was already there." "Who?" Julian asked, his voice sharp and demanding. Emily shook her head frantically. "I didn't see their face," she cried. "But they took her." "They took your mother right before the building went up in flames." My heart slammed against my ribs. My mother was alive, but she was in the hands of someone else entirely. I looked down at the metal lockbox in my hands. It was old and rusted, but the lock was surprisingly new and sophisticated. "Julian, we need to open this," I said, my voice trembling. Julian nodded, quickly signaling for Marcus. Marcus used a heavy set of bolt cutters to snap the lock off the box. I opened the lid, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Inside, resting on a bed of faded velvet, was a single, pristine white envelope. It was addressed to me, in my mother's handwriting. I tore it open, my breath catching in my throat as I read the first line. "My dearest Clara, if you are reading this, I am finally free."