Lila Mercer had promised not to ruin her father’s wedding.

Six months later.

The summer sun shone bright and warm over the rolling green hills of coastal Massachusetts. The ocean breeze carried the clean, salty smell of the sea, rustling through the leaves of the ancient oak trees that shaded Eleanor’s cottage in Boston.

Lila stood on the wide wooden porch, looking out at the glittering water.

She wore a simple, light yellow summer dress. Her dark hair was neatly braided back, and her face, once pale and hollowed by terror, had regained its healthy, youthful color.

She wasn't locked in a dark room anymore. She didn't smell roses in her nightmares.

Behind her, the screen door opened with a gentle creak. Eleanor stepped out onto the porch, carrying two glasses of fresh lemonade.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Eleanor said softly, handing a glass to Lila.

"Thank you, Aunt Eleanor," Lila said, taking a sip.

Eleanor sat down on the porch swing, watching her niece with a gentle, loving smile.

The legal battles were finally over. The Mercer estate in Blackwood had been sold, with every single cent placed into an untouchable trust fund for Lila’s future. Evan Mercer had accepted a plea bargain, receiving twenty-five years in state prison for accomplice to murder and grand larceny. Claire Dalton had been sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.

They would never touch Lila again.

Eleanor reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out a small, navy velvet box.

"This arrived from the police evidence department yesterday," Eleanor said gently. "The legal hold was finally released."

Lila set her glass down on the wooden railing. She looked at the velvet box.

She opened it.

Inside, resting on white silk, was the twenty-three-pearl necklace. It had been cleaned. The mud and the shadow of Claire’s touch were completely gone, leaving the pearls shining with a soft, iridescent pink-and-white glow beneath the morning sun.

Lila reached out her hand. Her fingers touched the smooth, cool surface of the smallest pearl. The one she used to count twice.

She didn't feel afraid. She didn't feel cold.

She lifted the necklace from the velvet box.

"Would you help me put it on, Aunt Eleanor?" Lila asked softly.

Eleanor’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Of course, darling."

Lila turned around, lifting her dark braids away from her neck. Eleanor carefully wrapped the strand around Lila’s collarbone, fastening the gold clasp securely behind her neck.

Click.

Lila walked to the glass door of the porch, looking at her reflection in the glass.

The pearls sat gently against her yellow dress, bright and beautiful.

Lila closed her eyes for a brief moment. In her heart, far away from the rain, far away from the dark stairs and the quiet study, she heard it—soft, clear, and warmer than the summer sun.