The door slammed open. Gabriel’s breath was heavy as he entered, his strides long and decisive like a storm that left no room for words.
“I told you not to touch anything.”
I stood in the corner of the room, my fingers still gripping my phone. “I did not touch it. I only read the card that was tucked inside.”
Gabriel walked to the dining table and his eyes went straight to the black box. His sharp gaze darkened, as if something far deeper than anger stirred inside him. He stepped closer and picked up the box with a glove he produced from his jacket pocket.
The moment he untied the black ribbon, the air in the room seemed to stop.
Inside—there was only a small object, an old silver necklace with a tarnished pendant. Yet beneath its simplicity I saw something piercing: the symbol of my
