“Alexander, what is going on?” she asked, her calculated composure slipping for a fraction of a second.

Alexander ignored her.

Using a silver butter knife, he slid the blade under the wax seal.

He pulled out the folded letter.

I stood beside him, watching his face drain of color as his eyes scanned the first few lines written by his late wife.

He read the words that I already knew by heart.

His grip on the paper tightened until his knuckles turned white.

He looked up from the page, his eyes locking onto mine with a mixture of shock and sudden, dangerous realization.

The front gates of the estate buzzed, the security monitor on the wall flashing a bright red warning light.

The red light on the security monitor pulsed against the polished mahogany walls.

Alexander did not look at the monitor.

His eyes remained fixed on the letter, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths.

“Alexander?” Celeste’s voice was sharp, a thin veneer of concern draped over her rising panic.

He did not answer her.