Matteo froze, looking back at me in the shadows.

I stared at the letter in my hands, my thumb tracing the embossed letter ‘B’ on the red wax.

The lock on the door gave a loud, metallic creak as someone threw their weight against it.

A second later, the small desk lamp flickered on, casting a circle of warm light across the desk.

On the blotter sat a small, silver letter opener shaped like a feather.

“Do it quickly,” Matteo whispered, his eyes darting to the door.

I slid the silver blade under the wax seal of my mother’s letter.

The paper tore with a sharp, crisp sound.

I pulled out the folded parchment inside, my eyes scanning the elegant, sweeping handwriting of Clara Bennett.

The first line made my breath catch in my throat.

*My dearest Vivian, if you are reading this, they have already tried to take the dress.*

A sudden splintering sound came from the door.

The wood around the brass lock began to crack under the force from the hallway.

“Vivian, they’re breaking the frame,” Matteo said, his voice tense.