Christopher had offered it back after everything ended.
Ryan refused.
“He earned it,” my brother had told me.
Christopher opened the locket.
Inside were two tiny photographs.
One of Ryan.
One of me.
I stared.
“When did you put that in?”
“A while ago.”
My heart began pounding.
Christopher looked suddenly nervous.
I had never seen him nervous.
“Rachel.”
“Yes?”
“I spent years believing everything good in my life came with a price.”
He looked toward the mansion.
“Money.”
“Power.”
“Loyalty.”
“Even survival.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“Then you walked into my room because you needed a paycheck and somehow became the first person in years who never wanted anything from me except answers.”
