Vivian couldn’t stop staring at the necklace.
The silver pendant rested cold against her palm beneath the dim emergency lighting, the engraved initials catching faint flashes of red from the backup system overhead.
C.W.
Clara Whitmore.
Roman took the necklace carefully from her hand, examining it with narrowed eyes.
“This looks old.”
Vivian swallowed hard.
“You think it’s actually hers?”
Before Roman could answer, Damien reappeared from the opposite end of the archive corridor, breathing slightly heavier than usual, frustration visible across his face.
“Nobody’s there,” he said sharply.
Then he noticed the necklace.
And froze.
The reaction lasted less than a second.
But Vivian saw it.
Roman saw it too.
Damien stepped closer slowly.
“Where did you find that?”
Vivian held hi
