Chapter 3
The Bag Opened
The handbag struck the marble floor and sprang open beneath the chandelier’s hard white light, its little clasp clicking against the stone as Daniel Carter crossed the foyer with Lily pressed against his shoulder and Victoria Hale still reaching toward the scattered contents.
There were no crayons inside.
An old envelope lay where the handbag had fallen—wrapped in yellowed paper, tied with a faded length of string, its corners rounded and soft from years of being handled or hidden away—and Daniel stopped with one hand held protectively across his daughter’s back.
He had never seen it before.
Rachel’s Handwriting
Daniel bent only after placing Lily against his chest more securely, then picked up the envelope with two fingers, careful around the brittle paper, while Victoria’s satin gown rustled behind him and the front hallway seemed to shrink around the three of them.
The writing was Rachel’s.
May you like
His dead wife had formed her capital D’s with a dramatic loop, a tiny flourish she had once used on grocery lists, birthday cards, and the notes she left on the refrigerator door; beneath the string, Daniel could make out only the beginning of a sentence.
Do not give this to him unless—
