The weight of the ornate box in my arms was nothing compared to the weight of what it could contain. My mother's legacy, the truth of the Blackwood family's betrayal, answers to questions that had haunted me my entire life—it all might be within the locked confines of this ancient relic.
Damien and I stood in his study, the door securely locked behind us. The dim light from the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, and the air felt charged with an unspoken urgency.
"I don't suppose you've got a crowbar lying around?" I said, attempting a weak smile as I set the box down on the polished wood desk.
Damien shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "We'll get it open, but not like that. If this box survived decades, maybe even centuries, smashing it might destroy what's inside."
I bit my lip, staring at the intricate lock that taunted us. Then, a flicker of memory hit me—an earlier discovery, nearly forgotten in the chaos of everything else.
