My stomach tightened.
“What did you do?” I asked.
Daniel’s jaw worked. “Emily, listen to me carefully. There are things Margaret never understood. She liked to interfere.”
“My aunt protected me.”
“She controlled you,” he shot back. “Even from the grave.”
Mr. Meyers closed his folder with a quiet snap. “That will be enough.”
But Daniel leaned closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “Do not go to Whitmore Tower.”
A chill ran along my arms.
“Why?”
He looked past me toward the children, then back again. His eyes were not pleading exactly. They were warning.
“Because Margaret didn’t leave you a gift,” he whispered. “She left you a trap.”
Before I could ask what he meant, the security officer guided him toward the front door.
Vanessa followed, unsteady in her expensive heels.
As she passed me, I held out my hand.
“My earrings.”
Her lips parted.
