Chapter 16

I look up at the store sign. Wraithmoor Antiquities.

My breathing catches—this is the place Maxwell wanted me to go to pick up my mysterious gift.

I press my hands to the glass, not caring if I’m smudging the window.

“What are you looking at?” Millie asks from behind me.

“I found it. Something old and something blue.” I point to the necklace displayed on a bed of white silk.

It’s beautiful—breathtaking. It’s a silver oval locket adorned with pearls, gems, and delicate floral carvings on the face, each petal adorned in gold, silver, or rose gold. Sparkling sapphires and tourmaline are interspersed between the flowers, the display light illuminating every glimmer of ocean blue and teal.

I can’t look away.

My face presses against the window. My breath fogs up the glass despite the suffocating heat surrounding us.

A mysterious yearning grips my heart in a vise as my pulse scatters in a wild rhythm.

I need that locket. It’s mine.

“The chain is long enough for me to tuck into my gown,” I murmur, my fingers twitching, eager to touch it and fasten it around my neck. “And the silhouette and inscription inside,” I whisper, my eyes glued to the shiny jewelry.

“What silhouette and inscription? What chain?” Grace shakes me and I draw in a quick breath, my eyes finally pulling away to look at my friend who’s scrunching her forehead in concern .

“The silver jeweled chain, the silhouette of the woman, and—” I turn back to the necklace, and a gasp tumbles from my mouth.

Only the locket is displayed. And it’s closed, no chain to be seen.

“I could’ve sworn…” I trail off as unease swirls inside me.

I wipe the thin mist of sweat on my forehead. It must be the heat wave, my overactive imagination, and all this talk of family curses and strange deaths.

“What on earth?” I whisper.

I thought I saw…I somehow know the inscription and silhouette painting will be inside. I’m as sure of it as I am of my name.

But how?

“Let’s go inside, buy the necklace, and pick up the gift. It’s fucking hot out here,” Taylor grumbles.

My pulse flutters wildly and I’m strangely out of breath. I tie Silas’s leash around the trunk of a small tree and he happily lies on the grass.

Pushing open the doors, I enter a place that could be a time capsule with its dark wood decor, glass cabinets with brass hardware, lit up oil lamps, and a smell of incense in the air.

There are shelves and display cases filled with vintage jewelry, handbags, and the walls are lined with oil paintings—stark portraits of somber people from bygone eras. The corners are filled to the brim with racks of silk scarves, hats, and other knickknacks.

“Welcome to Wraithmoor Antiquities. I’m Eleanor. How may I help you?” an elderly woman with wavy white hair and shrewd eyes asks.

“I’d like to look at the necklace inside the window display, please.”

She stares at me, her dark eyes penetrating as if assessing something, and I fight every urge to shrink from her gaze and run away.

“The Eternal Devotion locket is reserved for someone else. I’m sorry.”

My heart sinks as I gaze forlornly at the locket once more. “Eternal Devotion…what a beautiful name. ”

“It is. It’s a rare, handcrafted piece from the mid to late eighteen hundreds. It was said when the locket was found, there was blood on the surface and the clasp was broken.”

The air thins and for a second, the floor spins around me. I grip the glass case in front of me to steady myself.

The shopkeeper continues, “There are many stories about how that happened, but the most popular one was the wearer of the locket tragically passed away and the blood symbolized the last of her beating heart before she departed this world. And so, the locket earned the name ‘Eternal Devotion.’”

“That’s so sad,” Grace murmurs.

“Shit, that’s morbid,” Taylor huffs. “I have a question for you. Why is the store called Wraithmoor Antiquities? It’s a unique name.”

Eleanor is still staring unwaveringly at me, her brows pinching. I gnaw my lip and look away. Why is she looking at me like she’s seen a ghost?

She answers, “My ancestors have lived in the city since the beginning. They were caretakers of an old church on the Upper West Side—Wraithmoor Abbey. Sadly, the abbey burned down a long time ago, but it held a special place in their hearts.”

Wraithmoor Abbey . The name sears into my ears…so familiar yet foreign, and a strange sense of déjà vu washes over me.

“Interesting,” Taylor mumbles before nudging me. “Silas looks impatient. Let’s hurry up.”

I glance outside and see Silas pacing and barking at bystanders. Crap. Any moment now he’ll chew off the leash.

Turning back to Eleanor, disappointment over not being able to buy the necklace still weighing heavily inside my chest, I ask, “Thank you for telling us about the locket and the shop name. Actually, I’m here to pick up an order—a gift from…” My voice trails off, thinking about Maxwell, who’s almost like a stranger to me at this point.

“Her fiancé,” Millie supplies.

“Of course,” Eleanor murmurs. “Name on the order, please?”

“Maxwell Anderson. ”

The shopkeeper freezes and looks at me for a few beats.

I nervously tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Is something wrong?”

Her lips curve in an enigmatic smile and she shakes her head. “Nothing, nothing at all. I guess some things are fated.”

Without further explanation, she walks over to the window display, retrieves the locket, and carefully places it into a red velvet jewelry box. She slides it over to me.

“This locket is meant to be yours, after all.”

A gasp slips out of my mouth and the pulse tremors in my veins. I reach out, my fingers shaking as I touch the delicate jewelry. A somber ache and an unsettling calm, two contradicting emotions, wash over me at the same time.

Gently, I open the locket and Grace gasps.

“You’re right, Belle! There is a silhouette of a woman and an inscription. How did you know?”

I shake my head, unable to answer her. Nothing makes sense.

I trace the inscription inside:

To E,

Upon you, my dearest, my love rests for eternity and beyond, for anything less would be insufferable.

Your servant,

S.

A flinch of pain spasms from deep within me, but I can’t look away. It’s the feeling of finding something you aren’t aware you’ve lost.

“Eternal Devotion is a fitting name for it… It’s so romantic,” Millie murmurs, and I nod.

Somehow, Maxwell found and gifted me with the one thing that calls to me deeply, something equally beautiful and tragic at the same time.

“The Anderson family is filled with mysteries too…just like the necklace,” Eleanor comments.

I look up sharply. “What do you mean?” My pulse quickens.

She gives me a cryptic smile and says, “Someday, when you’re ready, come back here and find me. We’ll talk more then.”

What? “I don’t understand—”

“When you’re ready,” she reiterates and looks away, clearly ending the discussion.

Mysteries. Curses. Superstitions.

I clutch the necklace tightly in my hand before slowly fastening it around my neck. I can feel its pulse, its energy…an ethereal brand.

I shake myself and pinch my wrist. It’s the stories Eleanor was telling, along with the topics we were discussing that’s impacting my mood.

Nothing more.

“But make no mistake. This will never be a love match. It will only be a marriage of convenience. You cannot fall in love with me, and I will never, ever be in love with you.”

His rumbly voice echoes in my mind. The sharp, severe tone, the words that stabbed me straight in the heart.

The curse.

I refuse to believe it. There’s no way this is true.

Am I denying this because I really don’t believe in it or because…because I’m hoping for something more with him?