“He wanted to change his will,” Evelyn said, taking a step closer to him.

“He told me he was going to set aside a share of the family trust for her, to ensure she would never be pushed out.”

“But he died before he could sign the papers,” Ethan said, his voice cracking slightly.

“He did,” Evelyn replied. “But he left this photograph with me, and a letter he wrote the night Lily was born.”

She reached inside the deep pocket of her heavy wool coat and pulled out a folded piece of thick, cream-colored paper.

The edges were slightly frayed, and the crease was worn thin from years of being handled.

Ethan took it from her, his fingers brushing against her weathered skin.

I stepped backward, my shoulder hitting the edge of a tall bookshelf.

I had kept this secret for three long years, scrubbing the floors of this estate, watching Ethan from the hallways while keeping Lily hidden in the cottage.

I had only wanted to keep her safe from the storm that always seemed to follow the Cole family name.