Nobody spoke.
The atmosphere inside the archive room shifted instantly.
The envelope sat inside the wooden box.
Small.
Old.
Unremarkable.
And yet it had somehow managed to frighten Cassandra Kingsley.
That alone was enough to make everyone nervous.
Because Cassandra Kingsley was not a woman who frightened easily.
Camille slowly looked between the envelope and Cassandra.
"What is it?"
Cassandra remained silent.
Her gaze never left the faded paper.
The room waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Then finally
"I don't know exactly what's inside."
Nobody believed that.
Not entirely.
Victor certainly didn't.
His expression practically screamed it.
Cassandra noticed.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"I was."
Elena sighed.
Again.
A regular occurrence lately.
Cassandra turned her attention back toward the envelope.
"But I know who wrote it."
Camille frowned.
"My mother."
"Yes."
The answer came immediately.
Without hesitation.
