Chapter 60

“Here it is, Wraithmoor Antiquities,” I murmur to Maxwell as we duck under the awning, away from the light morning drizzle, which carries with it the clean, earthy smell of spring. I called this morning to make sure Eleanor was here before visiting.

“What if we don’t get answers about the curse, if there is still one? Or the dreams?”

“Belle,” Maxwell laces my fingers with his, “even if coming here is a waste of time, I’m happy because you’re by my side. That’s all that matters.” He swallows and continues, “I’m not running away anymore. We’ll figure this out together.”

Heat swirls inside me, and I smile at him. “You’re right.”

“Come on, let’s not keep her waiting.”

He pushes open the door and pulls me into the shop. The same spicy aroma of incense hits my nostrils, and the door closes behind us with a soft click.

Eleanor looks up from where she stands behind the counter, her eyes widening as she sharply inhales a breath.

Something has obviously surprised her, given the way she’s clutching the pearls around her neck. When I made the appointment to visit her, I didn’t tell her Maxwell was coming with me.

“Eleanor, this is my husband, Maxwell.” I glance at him, finding his brows furrowed in apparent confusion. “This is Eleanor. Her family owns this antiquities shop.”

The old lady recovers and clears her throat. She motions for us to take a seat on the other side of the counter .

“You’re ready,” she murmurs, her eyes knowing. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Yes, well, here I am. Can you tell us everything you know about the Anderson family and the locket?” I release a stale breath. Maxwell gives me a squeeze in reassurance.

She stares at us for a beat, her eyes skating over Maxwell’s face again before she shakes her head in apparent disbelief.

“It’s uncanny. The resemblance.”

Hairs rise on the back of my neck.

Her lips tip in a secretive smile. She pulls open a drawer and takes out a yellowed parchment, her frail hands shaking as she slowly unfolds it before setting it on the countertop.

I gasp.

It’s a beautiful drawing of a man cradling a woman in the rain, shriveled roses in the background. The woman’s face is half-hidden, but I see the silhouette, a birthmark under her eye. She looks like me.

What on earth? My pulse races in my ears.

The man’s features are also carefully drawn.

It’s Silas. A devastated Silas.

I turn and stare at my husband, finding his face ashen. He shakes his head. “M-My dream… How? Tell me what’s going on.”

Eleanor sighs as she stares at the artwork. “I don’t have all the answers, because everything I know has been passed down through the generations. They’re stories told by the fireplace…stories that seem too far-fetched to believe. But now…”

She stares at him and lets out a rough exhale.

“I told Mrs. Anderson my ancestors were caretakers of Wraithmoor Abbey before it burned down. But I didn’t tell her that years later, they ended up working for the Anderson family.”

Maxwell snaps his gaze at her, his eyes piercing.

“Yes, your family. One of my great-grandfathers was a groundskeeper when your family rebuilt on top of the land. It was said he witnessed a tragedy so devastating; the image haunted him for the rest of his life.”

She points to the drawing. “He drew multiple iterations of this scene—the devastated duke who found out the love of his life departed the earth.”

Eleanor motions to the locket burning on top of my chest. “The guilt ate at him, I think. I didn’t tell you before, but the Eternal Devotion locket was found on the estate grounds. My great-grandfather suspected it belonged to the duke, but he wasn’t sure, and the duke was a different man after the tragedy—angry, depressed, volatile. So, he never asked but held onto it. It was then the rumors of a curse started. My great-grandfather thought the curse was borne from heartbreak, but no one could be sure.”

Her words echo in my mind as I open the jeweled locket and read the inscription. Could it have been Emma’s all along? Was it because the locket was imbued with tragedy that I felt an aching sadness when I first saw it? I remember the portrait of Silas in the estate, devastation in his eyes.

More clues and still no answers.

“But he firmly believed the locket would return to its owner one day. That should an Anderson come and claim it, we were supposed to give it back. Years went by and no one came looking for it, so we put it up online, thinking maybe that’d draw some attention to it.”

She looks at me, her lips tipped up in a small smile. “It felt fated when the locket was purchased by an Anderson from the Anderson family. And when you came in asking for it, you looked so troubled, and you resembled…” Her voice trails off and she swallows.

“Her. Emma,” Maxwell murmurs, his eyes still snagged on the drawing.

I gasp and grab his forearm. “H-How did you know her name? I-I never told you… That was the name I saw in the letter in my dream. The same name on the envelope in the secret room.”

Maxwell freezes, his face leached of color. “I-I don’t know. I just know the name. Fuck. What the hell,” he whispers. He turns to Eleanor. “Do you know why this is happening? ”

Eleanor shakes her head. “I don’t have those answers.” She turns to me. “When you came in, I saw how much you wanted the necklace, but I couldn’t give it to you. And when you told me your husband asked you to pick up a gift…and he was the Anderson who purchased it, I knew it was fated. The necklace returning to its rightful owners.”

Rightful owners.

My breathing is rickety as a chill sweeps through me. I glance up, finding Maxwell with a similar haunted expression on his face.

“This makes no sense,” I whisper in disbelief.

Eleanor coughs as she taps her finger on the glass. “My family has always believed in destiny, that we all have a role to play in this world. And I now know it is my role to give you back the necklace and to tell you the story behind it.”

“How can this be?” The locket, the curse, the visions. Everything.

“My dear, I’ve lived a long life, and there are many things we don’t understand in this world. But we all end up where we’re supposed to be. Every story will have an ending, even one you don’t see coming.”

She sits down, a soft smile on her wrinkly face. “I felt a lightness in my soul when you took back the necklace. And I feel even more certain now as I look at the two of you. My job is complete.”

A burning fire sweeps through me—a sudden revelation. I know where the answers are. Where they had always been, hiding in plain sight, waiting for us to discover them.

I turn to Maxwell. “I need to show you something.”