Mara's eyes filled again.

This time, she couldn't stop one tear from escaping.

“My grandmother raised me. She wouldn't talk about my mother. Whenever I asked, she'd tell me that remembering her was dangerous.”

Alessandro stared at the pendant.

“Where did you get it?”

“My grandmother gave it to me when she died.”

Victoria suddenly stepped forward.

“That proves nothing.”

Alessandro turned.

Victoria's composure had begun to fracture.

“You're being manipulated,” she said. “A servant discovers an old piece of jewelry and invents a story because she wants attention.”

Mara looked at her.

“I didn't know what it meant.”

Victoria's voice sharpened.

“You expect us to believe you just happened to wear it in this house?”

“I've worn it every day since I was a child.”

Alessandro's eyes remained on Victoria.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I am not nervous.”

“You are.”

Victoria gave a brittle laugh.

“You're accusing me because of a pendant?”

“No.”

His voice was quiet.

“I'm asking why you knew what it was before I told you.”

Victoria went still.

Mara noticed.

So did everyone else.

For the first time, Alessandro saw something he had not seen in years.

A crack.

Not in Mara.

In Victoria.

He walked toward his fiancée.

“Have you seen this symbol before?”

Victoria's lips parted.

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

Alessandro said nothing.

Victoria looked toward the servants.

“Leave us.”

No one moved.

Alessandro didn't need to repeat the order.

Within seconds, the hallway emptied.

Mara remained.

Victoria glared at her.

“You too.”

Alessandro raised one hand.

“She stays.”

Victoria stared at him.

“You trust her?”

“I don't trust anyone.”

“Then why—”

“Because you're afraid of her.”

Victoria's face went white.

“I am not afraid of a maid.”

“Then you won't mind if she tells me everything.”

Silence.

Mara felt something shift inside her.

For nearly two years, she had cleaned rooms in this house, carried trays through meetings, heard conversations through closed doors, and learned which footsteps belonged to which men.

She had come here for one reason.

Her mother.

She had never imagined that the man standing before her would become part of the answer.

Alessandro looked at her.

“Tell me what you know.”

Mara hesitated.

“My mother had a photograph.”

“Of what?”

“Your family.”

His expression hardened.

“Where is it?”

“I don't have it.”

“Who does?”

“My grandmother gave it to someone before she died.”

“Who?”

“I don't know.”

Victoria suddenly laughed.

It sounded wrong.

Too light.

Too forced.

“This is absurd.”

Alessandro turned toward her.

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Then you won't object to a question.”

“What question?”

“Where is Isabella buried?”

Victoria stopped.

The color drained from her face.

Mara watched her carefully.

Alessandro's voice dropped.

“You've never met my mother.”

“No.”

“You've never heard her name.”

“I've heard stories.”

“Then how do you know where she's buried?”

Victoria said nothing.

That silence answered him.

Alessandro took one step forward.

“Where?”

Victoria's breathing became shallow.

“I don't know.”

Mara whispered, “You do.”

Victoria turned on her.

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

“My grandmother told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That a woman named Victoria visited the grave.”

Victoria's eyes widened.

“When?”

“Before I came to work here.”

Alessandro looked between them.

“What grave?”

Mara's hand trembled against the pendant.

“The grave with no name.”

His face became unreadable.

For eighteen years, Alessandro had searched for a grave.

He had visited cemeteries across the country. Paid investigators. Threatened men who claimed to know what happened. Burned through fortunes following rumors.

His family had always told him there had never been a body.

No grave.

No proof.

Only disappearance.

Now a young maid was telling him his mother had been buried somewhere close enough for his own fiancée to visit.

Alessandro turned toward Victoria.

“You're going to take me there.”

Victoria shook her head.

“I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because—”

She stopped.

The word hung between them.

Because.

Not because she didn't know.

Because she couldn't.

Alessandro understood the distinction immediately.

He walked to the window.

Rain streaked the glass.

Behind him, Mara stood perfectly still.

Then Alessandro spoke.

“Call the driver.”

Victoria didn't move.

“Alessandro…”

“Call him.”

“You don't understand what you're doing.”

He turned.

“Then explain it.”