“Where did you get that?” he asked.

His voice was different now.

Lower.

Tighter.

The girl didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she shifted her gaze.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Toward Victoria.

Just seconds ago, Victoria had been smiling, effortlessly engaged in conversation, the perfect image of composure.

Now her smile was gone.

Completely.

Her face had gone pale, the color draining from it as if someone had pulled the life out of her expression in a single breath.

The room felt it.

Everyone felt it.

The girl looked back at Daniel.

“My mom told me to give it back to you,” she said.

Silence.

Not the polite silence of a formal gathering.

A heavy, suffocating silence that pressed down on everyone in the room.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Daniel stared at the small object resting in the girl’s open palm.

A silver locket.

Old.

Worn.

But unmistakable.

His hand lifted slowly, almost involuntarily, toward his own chest. With trembling fingers, he reached beneath his shirt collar and pulled out a chain.

Hanging from it—

an identical locket.

The same shape.

The same delicate engraving.

The same memory.

“That’s…” His voice faltered. “That’s impossible.”

His fingers shook as he held it up, comparing the two.