The brass key rested quietly in Alexander's palm.
Its dull golden surface reflected the soft light from the chandelier, revealing years of wear. It wasn't beautiful or expensive. In fact, it looked ordinary.
Yet everyone in the room stared at it as though it held the answer to every question they had been asking for the past twenty-two years.
Diana remained standing where she was. Her tired eyes never left Alexander.
"I've carried that key for so long," she said softly. "There were days I wanted to throw it into a river and pretend none of this had ever happened."
Margaret looked at her with sympathy. "But you didn't." Diana shook her head. "No." "I made a promise."
Alexander finally lifted his eyes from the key. "My mother trusted you that much?" A faint smile crossed Diana's face.
