THE MAID'S FORCED VOW

Chapter Twelve.

Three days later, I finally found the courage to go through the last box of my mother's belongings, still taped shut in the corner of Micah's closet since the funeral.

I found old photographs, a few pieces of jewelry, and near the bottom, a small leather journal with a brass lock and no key.

"What is that," Micah asked, looking over my shoulder.

"I don't know yet." I turned it over in my hands, feeling the weight of it, the years it had sat hidden away from anyone who might have asked questions. "But I think it's what Marcus is looking for."

I brought it home that night and showed Damon, who studied the small lock with the same careful focus he gave everything.

"I can have this opened by tomorrow," he said.

"No," I said quickly. "Not by your people. Not yet. I want to know what's inside before your father's name is anywhere near it."

Damon looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. "Then we open it ourselves."

It took nearly an hour with a set of small tools from the kitchen drawer before the lock finally gave way. Inside, the pages were filled with my mother's handwriting, dates and figures I didn't understand, and one line circled twice near the middle of the journal.

He knew what happened to David and let it happen anyway.

I read it three times before I looked up at Damon. "Who is David."

Damon's face had gone pale. "I don't know. But I think we need to find out before my father realizes this journal still exists."