Chapter 89: The Hidden Heirloom

The early morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow on the dining table as I carefully unfolded my mother's letter again. Every word on the fragile page felt like a whisper from her—a reminder of the connection we shared, even across time. Damien sat across from me, his coffee untouched as he studied my expression.

"We're missing something," I said, scanning the letter for what felt like the hundredth time.

Damien leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "Your mother wasn't one to leave things to chance. If she wrote about this, she wanted you to find it. We just need to figure out how."

Sophie entered the room, a clipboard in hand. Her usual efficient demeanor softened when she saw the letter in front of me. "Still working on your mother's mystery?" she asked, setting the clipboard aside.