detail. Mark was nowhere to be seen; Dad mentioned they had broken up barely a year after the betrayal. Serves them right, I thought bitterly, taping up a heavy cardboard box.
Dad was in the kitchen sorting through dishes, his hands shaking. To give him some space, I tackled Clara’s bedroom closet. Deep in the back, hidden beneath a stack of old winter coats, was a locked, vintage wooden chest.
Curiosity overrode my anger. I searched her jewelry box on the nightstand, found a small brass key, and
