Chapter 4 - THE SILVER KEY AND THE LOCKED DOOR
Emma pushed open the unlocked front gate, her small shoes clicking softly against the stone pathway. Adrian followed her, every muscle in his body coiled tight with an agonizing mixture of dread and hope.
They stepped inside the foyer. The house was bright, warm, and smelled faintly of dried lavender, lemon polish, and fresh Earl Grey tea. Sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating hardwood floors covered in soft, woven rugs. The decor was simple, elegant, and bore subtle touches that made Adrian’s blood run cold—a vase of white magnolias on the hallway table, a hand-knotted throw blanket draped over the armchair in the exact herringbone pattern Claire used to weave.
Emma walked past the living room and stopped at the end of the central hallway, standing before a heavy, dark wooden door fitted with an antique brass lock.
"Don’t open that," Emma warned, turning around and placing her small hands over her embroidered apron.
Adrian stopped two paces behind her, his dark eyes fixed on the heavy wood. "Why?"
"Mommy keeps the before things there," Emma explained softly, her face growing unusually serious. "She says the before things make people sad."
Before Adrian could process her words, Emma reached into the small side pocket of her sapphire-blue dress. Her small hand emerged holding a small, worn silver key attached to a faded blue ribbon.
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The moment the light caught the key, the color completely drained from Adrian’s face.
He recognized every scratch on that silver key. It was a custom-carved antique key—the exact key to his private study in their old Boston estate, a key that Claire had carried on her personal ring every single day of their marriage, a key that was supposed to have been lost at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean seven years ago.
