“Quiet,” I breathed, pressing my back against the cold wood.

Outside, heavy footsteps paused right beyond the threshold.

A hand rattled the brass lever from the hallway.

The lock held.

“Who is out there?” Alexander whispered, his hand finding my shoulder.

“One of Celeste’s men, I think,” I said.

“How did this door open?” he asked.

“I bypassed the system from the service panel near the baseboard,” I said, pointing to the tiny green LED glowing near the floor.

I knew this room better than anyone.

I had spent three years cleaning every inch of it, and guarding its secrets.

I reached into my apron pocket and pulled out a small, metallic penlight.

I clicked it on, casting a narrow beam across the polished surface of the grand piano.

The smell of old sheet music and lemon polish filled the cold air.

“We don’t have much time,” I said.

“Why did you bring me in here, Elena?” Alexander asked, his eyes searching my face in the dim light.

“Because the truth about Eleanor is in this room,” I said.

He stiffened at the mention of his late wife.