“What did Stephanie tell you?” he asked carefully.
“Enough.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Leave old pain buried, Fiona.”
That warning stayed with me.
The Truth Begins to Surface
The next morning, after discovering Victor’s empty shelter, I confronted him about the locket.
“Why would my mother give you that?”
Victor turned the necklace over in his hands.
“Because I gave it to her.”
I stared.
“When?”
“When we were children.”
He opened the locket.
Inside was a faded photograph.
Two children sat on a porch.
A boy with his arm around a little girl.
On the back were three handwritten words:
My Safe Place
My throat tightened.
“That’s Mom?”
Victor nodded.
“And that’s you?”
“Yes.”
Confusion flooded through me.
“My mother only had one brother.”
Victor looked away.
“Mark was the youngest.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“No.”
His voice was barely a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Fiona.”
