The mason and I had to sneak into the room and keep it from the rest of the staff. If you'd been watching us, you might have suspected us of having an affair the way we slinked into the room and closed the door behind us. The fewer people who knew what I was doing, the better. The same for the pregnancy test. I told no one about it, either.

Digging out grout and sawing through stone masonry wasn't the quietest job on the planet. We planned it for a time when Libby and Harris were out and the rest of the contractors were busy in the east wing.

When Pandora opened the box, she was expecting great wonders. I didn't know how Bluebeard's wife felt when she opened the door to that room and found all those dead wives. I wasn't expecting dead wives, plagues, or a beating heart. But my pulse raced all the same.

Using imaging again, the mason homed in on the area of the void where it looked like a large, solid object sat. It took what seemed like an eternity to loosen a single stone enough to remove it. "It's ready to come out."

I crowded behind him and peered over his shoulder, heart beating so fast I thought I might pass out or throw up.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I bit my lip. "This is exciting, isn't it?"

"Aye." He grinned and looked up at me. "You're pale, duchess. Are you all right?"

"I think so." I forced a smile. "That box is too small for a body, right?" I was thinking of Edgar Allen Poe again, "The Cask of Amantillado," maybe.

"No worries, duchess. Far too small." He slid the brick out, revealing part of a small, flat metal strongbox that was just slightly shorter than the height of the brick. He looked at me for guidance. "Duchess?"

"I want that box." I eyed it cautiously. It was too big to remove through the space we had. "How many stones, do you think?"

"Another one should do it, I should think. The second one will go faster."

He was right. It did. He was soon handing me the box.

I took it almost reverently, glad that it had heft and weight to it and terrified at the same time. Something slid around inside. If it had been empty, it would have been a disappointing denouement. "Is there anything else in there?"

He shook his head and stepped back for me to take a look, shining the light into the dark space for me.

"Great job," I said, hesitating. Should I look at the contents of the box and put it back? Reseal the space and keep the box for myself? I hadn't thought that far ahead. Usually I was good with a plan. "Can you put the stones back together so no one will notice what we've done, but so we can remove the stones and put the box back later?"

He nodded. "Easy."

I slipped the box into the backpack I frequently carried around the castle, intent on taking it to my room, and left the contractor with instructions to patch up and sneak out.

Libby stopped me on my way back to my room. "Package for you." She handed me the plain brown box. She looked suspicious, but maybe it was just my guilty conscience.

I thanked her and took it to the room I shared with Ren. Pregnancy test or secret treasure? Which box, which potential life change did I open first?

Surprisingly, pregnancy was the less frightening option. Pregnancy gave me an out from this marriage if I wanted it, if the box revealed too much. Or too little. Pregnancy would give me the beautiful baby I longed for. A boy would be perfect. We'd have the heir for the title, too. But a girl, which I would love, would still inherit the estate. I could still manage it for her.

I took the test to the bathroom and took it with surprising calm. Part of me thought my symptoms were just stress. The other part of me was hopeful the first part of me was wrong. I wanted a baby. I wanted Ren's baby, badly.

The first part of me was wrong—I was pregnant. I sat in the bathroom and cried tears of real joy. I needed to call Ren—

No. Telling him over the phone was no way to share this big news. I needed to tell him in person. I'd have to wait until he came home for the Halloween party. Plan some clever way to tell him. In the meantime, the pregnancy test was another thing to hide. I wrapped it up and hid it beneath the bathroom counter.

I went to the bedroom and sat on the bed beside the other life test, the strongbox. I was no longer calm. Maybe I should wait? Do this another day? Give myself time to enjoy and get used to the thought of being a mother?

But I was running out of time. And my curiosity wouldn't rest. I steeled myself and reached for it. I trembled so badly I fumbled. What was I hoping to find? A smoking gun? Would anything short of it be disappointing?

This was like a treasure hunt, or a horror hunt. What if whatever was inside convicted Ren of the worst? I put my hand on my stomach, protecting my tiny nib of a baby from the thought of its father being a monster. And how could I even think that of Ren? Was my judgment of character so terrible that he could have fooled me so completely?

Somehow, I managed to finally unlatch the box. I lifted the lid, so nervous that I was almost sick. And, of course, being pregnant didn't help.

I peered in at the contents—a spoon, a lighter, a bag of white powder—no doubt cocaine, but labeled white lady—an envelope, a small diary, and a ring box. I didn't touch the drug paraphernalia.

White lady. Their pet name for cocaine. All the "sightings" made sense now. Their obsession with the room. Ren's insistence that Zoe's sighting of the white lady was a hallucination. Why had Ren saved the coke? Was it easier to hide the evidence than destroy it? I had to hand it to him—he'd effectively hidden it for ten years.

I picked up the ring box and stared at it. I hoped this wasn't what I thought it was. When I opened it, a small solitaire engagement ring sparkled at me and my heart squeezed tight. It was exactly what I'd thought and feared.

It would have been easy to assume it was Zoe's with Will. But I knew better. I'd seen pictures of the ring Will had given her on her finger. This wasn't the same ring. This ring was Ren's style—Ren's budget style, perhaps, but his, definitely. I had a horrible feeling this was an engagement ring Ren had bought for Zoe. Why hadn't he told me? How many more secrets was he keeping?

The envelope had Ren's name on it written in a young, feminine hand. When I opened the diary, the handwriting was the same—big, round, and loopy—and Zoe's name was written inside.

There comes a point in life where you have to decide who you want to be and what lines you'll cross to get there. A point when every ethic and standard you have is tested. This was mine. Did I want to be a voyeur into a life that ended ten years ago? Into the personal thoughts of a dead woman I both despised and pitied? Did I dare to find the solution to the puzzle of what happened that night in the river? Or did I let those ghosts lie?

My curiosity was too great. The contents of the box felt, to me, like Ren's twenty-one-year-old heart boarded up behind the wall. Was this a tribute? A time capsule? Could his heart be set free to love another? To love me?

I had no idea. I didn't understand the young Ren's mind any better than I understood Ren now. I didn't know whether the current-day Ren's heart was irreparably damaged or had healed enough to love again. All I really knew was that Shaw thought I could be good for Ren and that she loved him as deeply as any mother could.

I opened the envelope, pulled out a letter, and did what I always did: snapped a picture.

I forced myself to breathe and read the letter.

Ren—

I'm sorry. I wasn't myself. It will never happen again. I love you. You know I do. I can't live without you. I'm miserable without you. If you don't come back to me, I'll kill myself.

Please, please, take me back.

Zoe

Short and dramatic. Threatening. Manipulative. A cry for help? I swallowed hard against the rising nausea.

Ren's heart in a vault. I couldn't get the thought out of my mind. I'd truly uncovered Ren's telltale heart.

I opened the diary and began reading and snapping pictures, page after page of narcissism and obsession. I was in the mind of a sick, unhappy woman. A woman obsessed with Ren. A woman who alternated between adoring him and hating him. A woman who found a companion and accomplice in Will: a man to shag, a man to do drugs with, a man to give her a title and an estate—things she was entitled to, she felt. But not a man to love like she loved Ren, if you could call obsession love.

She recorded every drug session in the white room. She recorded her sexual encounters with Will, and the one with Ren, laughing and gloating at how she'd tricked him back to her bed. How she would have him again. How she knew he couldn't resist her long.

And then there was the depressed ranting. She would kill herself if Ren didn't take her back. She'd kill them both. She'd kill Will.

Ren had loved this woman? He'd memorialized her?

I couldn't read any more. I snapped pictures of the rest of the pages and set the journal aside.

My phone rang in my hand. Ren was calling. I ignored it. I couldn't talk to him. I was too emotional, too upset. I needed to think. I needed to get my head on straight. I needed to make sense of everything I knew and everything I'd discovered. If I lost my temper with Ren now, he'd think I was as crazy and disturbed as Zoe. I'd scare him away.

If I cracked and shared the news about being pregnant in this frame of mind, I'd do it out of desperation or anger, and ruin what should be a beautiful moment between us.

I put everything back in the box just the way I'd found them.

Ren hung up and left a voicemail. I ignored that, too.

The problem with any scene was that there were dozens of angles to view it from. Was I looking at this one from the right angle? The engagement ring, for example—sign of true love or capitulation to blackmail? The letter—kept as a cherished memory of a woman's love or as a reminder never to fall under the spell of such a tormented woman again?

My mind was awash with thoughts. I thought best when I walked. I turned my phone to do not disturb, including Ren's number, grabbed Ren's box and stuffed it in my backpack again, grabbed a sweater, and headed for the loggia. I could be alone there. The ghost hunters had taken the day off to analyze the data they'd collected. They'd be back at Halloween to conduct tours and collect more data.

As I walked through the maze to the lake, a story was forming in my mind. By the time I reached the loggia, mist was rising off the water. The conditions were perfect to see the knight of the lake. Manly had described it many times in his journal. Maybe I'd get lucky.

"Come on, knight," I whispered. "Show me your face."

I set my backpack next to me on the stone bench and got my phone out, ready to snap a picture of the knight, should he appear. The view was strikingly beautiful and reminiscent of the evening I'd met Ren. It alone would make a beautiful picture. This time, though, I was dressed in jeans and tennis shoes and faced the lake. The roses were gone and leaves littered the loggia.

I pulled Ren's box out and held it in my lap. For the moment, at least, I didn't see the knight, but there were ghosts here all the same.

I turned my face to the sun and felt the last bit of the day's warmth. I remembered Ren sneaking up on me and the shock of the instant chemistry between us. And then my mind drifted to a scene I'd only ever imagined. But this time, it was crystal clear and rolled out before me like a movie.

Will and Zoe freebasing in the white lady's room with the purest coke money could buy. The coke in the box next to me. If I had it tested, I was positive we'd find it was stronger than what Will was used to. Or maybe cut with something that made dosing more unpredictable than usual. The euphoria and confidence, the physical pleasure, were stronger than anything he'd ever felt. The effect wore off, and the low was worse, too. Will takes another dose, anything to get rid of the low and get that euphoria back.

But this time, he overdoses. He goes into cardiac arrest and starts vomiting, choking on it. Zoe sees Will's distress, but she's high, too. And being high, her judgment is impaired. She doesn't seriously believe anything can go wrong; the drug has convinced her of that. She's confident Will will be okay. He just has to ride it out. She waits too long before deciding he needs help. But she's still confident she can get him to the hospital and all will be well. There's no need to call an ambulance.

Will can still walk. I see him stumbling down the steps of the castle, leaning heavily on Zoe. But he's steadily growing clumsier and about to lose consciousness. He's too big for her to handle on her own. Fortunately, Ren sees them from his bedroom window and runs to help.

He and Zoe get Will into Zoe's car. Ren demands the keys. He insists on driving. Zoe laughs at him, dangling the keys in front of him. He lunges for them, but Zoe dodges him and jumps in the driver's seat. Ren slides into the back seat before Zoe can lock him out, closing the door as she floors it.

Zoe is a reckless driver at the best of times. Now, she flies down the narrow, twisting road along the river way too fast. Ren begs her to pull over. He grabs for the wheel over her shoulder. She pushes him away.

Will's in distress, pale and unconscious. The death rattle is evident as he labors to breathe.

"I think he's having another heart attack," Ren tells Zoe. "We need a doctor. We need help fast."

Zoe is coming down off her high by now. She's crashing badly. Her suicidal thoughts come back in full force. This low is lower than anything she's ever experienced. She starts shaking. She wants it all to end. She comes to that fatal stretch of road and realizes this is her chance to take Will and Ren with her. She points the car toward the river and floors it.

The car plunges in and takes a moment to sink. The doors are impossible to open while the outside water pressure is pushing in. You have to wait until the car lands and fills with water. Then the pressure will be equalized and you can open a door. Ren knows this and maintains his calm, talking Zoe down, talking her through it.

He doesn't know she's crashed. He doesn't know she intentionally drove them into the river.

A bubble of air forms at the ceiling of the car. Ren tells Zoe to take a deep breath. He takes her hand. He tells her they'll get out of the car and surface together. They have to grab Will.

Zoe nods and agrees. But when Ren opens the door to let them out, Zoe fights him. She won't leave the car. She won't help with Will. Ren gets outside the car. Zoe grabs the door handle, pulls the door shut, and locks Ren out.

I see Ren pounding on the window, motioning for Zoe to unlock the door. I see her shaking her head. I see all that, but maybe the water is too dark to see anything and Ren is pounding and trying to get in again. Or maybe the dome light is on and Ren can see. Either way, it's terrifying. Ren is running out of breath.

He gives up and swims to the surface, barely making it to the bank. He's dripping. He's shaking and cold. He's in shock. And he knows going back into the river is pointless. He can't get into the car, and Will is already dead.

Ren's phone is wet and dead. He flags the first car that passes by. It's Manly. Manly is old-fashioned. He doesn't carry his phone. He has to drive to the village for help. He tells Ren to stay put and mark the spot of the accident.

Only Manly doesn't immediately go for help. He drives off toward the village, but once there, he delays. He sees his opportunity to make sure an unsuitable heir is out of the way. Later, he covers his tracks by gaslighting Ren, saying Ren was confused about how long Manly was gone.

And the box in my lap? Seen from another angle, it's insurance in case Ren ever needs, or wants, to clear his name.

So what was Ren doing by letting the rumors fly? Protecting the family name?