My mother, Margot Hawkins, was an only child. The daughter of a low-ranking Society member. The men of her family were not Sovereign Sons. My grandfather arranging a marriage between Margot and my father was a boon to Margot’s father. She would marry a Montgomery. A Sovereign Son for his lowly daughter. It was higher than he’d ever have thought to strive. They married quickly, and when they produced the first male heir—me—Grandfather knew he’d done the right thing.

Then Theron came along, and my grandfather had all he required of my father. Two sons. No daughters necessary. If anything happened to me, Theron would slip into my place. And so my parents were told they would not have any more children. I wonder if it bothered my mother. She has always been a vain, selfish, and ambitious woman. A woman for whom Society life as the wife of a high-ranking member with its lunches and parties and money was all she needed. She’s still the same today.

My father obeyed the decree laid down by my grandfather, but I know he wanted a large family. I think he even loved my mother. I can’t say the same for her. I loved him, but I also knew he was weak. No match for a man like Carlisle Lawson Montgomery.

I have to pass my mother’s cottage on my way to this particular outbuilding, but I don’t stop to see her. I still wonder if Grandfather gave her this cottage on purpose. A constant memory. When I get to the building, I take my phone out of my pocket and switch on the flashlight. I don’t hesitate to enter even though it’s been a long time since I’ve been here.

The building is made of stone. It’s an older, simpler structure than the cottages though it’s just as sturdy and possibly more so. The entrance to the room itself is set farther back, and I shine my flashlight along the walls as I make my way toward it, wondering what Mercedes thought of it as she walked in. How deep did she go? The natural light fades quickly to pitch black, and without a flashlight, you’d be walking blind. I can’t imagine she wasn’t afraid.

My steps echo off the stone floor and walls as the passage grows narrow for several minutes, then, unexpectedly, it opens up again, the ceiling higher as I reach the closed door.

I test it and confirm it’s locked just as Paolo said. Good. Even if she’d gotten this far, which I doubt, she wouldn’t have gotten past the lock.