THE MAFIA BOSS SAW HIS PREGNANT MAID CARRYING A HEAVY SUITCASE—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SCREAMED, “DON'T OPEN IT!” “I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE PREGNANT! GET THAT SUITCASE DOWNSTAIRS!”

Three weeks later.

The Moretti mansion was completely transformed.

The heavy, dark drapes that Vanessa had insisted on keeping closed were thrown wide open, letting the bright summer sunlight pour onto the marble floors. The cold, sterile artwork was gone, replaced by vibrant paintings and family photographs.

I walked through the entrance hall, carrying a laundry basket, purely out of habit.

"Ah-ah-ah," a voice chided.

I turned.

Elena was standing at the top of the marble staircase, holding Grace’s hand. Elena was wearing a simple white sundress, her dark hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

"What did we say about you doing chores, Clara Bennett?" Elena smiled, walking down the stairs.

"I was just taking my own laundry to the guest house," I defended playfully. "Old habits die hard."

"Put it down," Elena laughed, taking the basket from my hands and setting it on the bench. "The staff can handle it. You are supposed to be resting."

I smiled, adjusting the baby monitor clipped to my belt. Danielle was sleeping soundly in her beautiful new nursery in the guest house.

"How is she?" Elena asked.

"Perfect," I said. "Slept through the night for the first time."

Grace tugged on my skirt. "Can I go play with Danielle when she wakes up?"

"Absolutely, sweetie," I smiled, brushing a curl out of Grace’s face.

Just then, the heavy oak doors of the study opened, and Vincent walked out.

He was wearing a casual gray sweater and slacks, looking younger and more relaxed than I had ever seen him. He walked over and kissed Elena softly on the cheek, then scooped Grace up into his arms, earning a fit of giggles.

"Clara," Vincent said, turning to me. "I need you to come into the study for a moment."

"Is everything okay?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

"Everything is fine," Vincent reassured me. "I just have something for you."

I followed Vincent and Elena into the massive, wood-paneled study.

Sitting on the center of the heavy mahogany desk was an object I hadn't seen since the night Richard Sterling’s men broke into my old apartment.

The wooden box.

Dark brown. Scratched along the edges. The box Daniel had made for me on our anniversary.

I gasped, pressing my hands to my mouth.

"The police recovered it from Richard’s evidence locker this morning," Vincent explained softly. "They cleared it and released it back to me."

I walked slowly toward the desk. My hands trembled as I reached out and touched the scratched wood.

"He sent a picture of it," I whispered. "Richard. He said he found it, but that it was empty."

"It was," Vincent said. "Richard opened it, didn't find the recording, and assumed it was useless."

I nodded, tracing the grain of the wood.

"Clara," Elena said gently, stepping up beside me. "Daniel was a very smart man. He wouldn't have just given you an empty box on your anniversary."

I frowned, looking at her. "What do you mean?"

"Pick it up," Vincent encouraged.

I lifted the heavy wooden box. It felt solid.

"Turn it over," Vincent said.

I flipped the box over. The bottom was lined with green velvet to prevent scratching tables.

But as I looked closer, I noticed a tiny, almost imperceptible seam running along the edge of the velvet base.

My heart began to pound.

I set the box down, found a letter opener on Vincent’s desk, and carefully pried the velvet base upward.

It popped loose.

A false bottom.

Richard Sterling had been so obsessed with finding the digital recording that he hadn't bothered to look for anything analog.

Tucked inside the hidden compartment was a single, folded piece of thick stationary paper.

My hands shook violently as I pulled it out.

It was a letter.

Written in Daniel’s careful, slightly crooked handwriting.

I unfolded it, tears immediately blurring my vision.

My dearest Clara,

If you are reading this, it means the worst has happened, and I am no longer with you.

I am so incredibly sorry for the secrets I kept. I wanted to tell you everything, but the less you knew, the safer you were. I hope by now, Vincent has found you, and you understand why I had to do what I did.

I couldn't let them hurt that little girl, Clara. When I looked at Grace, I saw the daughter we were going to have someday. I couldn't walk away.

I know you are probably angry, and terrified, and hurting. But I need you to know one thing.

You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Every moment with you was a gift.

I won't be there to see our baby grow up. But I left something for her. Go to the old oak tree in the garden at the Moretti estate. The one where I first met Vincent all those years ago. Dig at the base of the roots.