Old coats.
Architectural models from college.
Boxes labeled in her handwriting.
Emma walked toward a stack of luggage.
She moved a small pink suitcase.
Then pulled aside a folded blanket.
Behind it was the blue box.
Adrian recognized it immediately.
Dark navy cardboard.
Tiny silver stars printed across the lid.
Hannah had used it for letters before they married.
He had teased her.
“Looks like something a teenager stores love notes in.”
She answered, “Maybe I do.”
He had forgotten about it.
Emma handed it to him.
“Lauren said give it.”
“Did she know it was here?”
Emma shook her head.
“She saw me with the picture.”
“What picture?”
Emma opened the lid.
Photographs filled the top layer.
Adrian sat on an old wooden chair.
Emma climbed onto his knee.
She pulled out the third photograph.
“That one.”
Adrian stared.
The picture had been taken inside an office conference room.
Hannah stood near a window.
She looked perhaps thirty-three.
Younger.
Healthy.
Beside her were four other people.
Two men Adrian recognized as former Bennett Ridge executives.
A woman from accounting.
And Lauren.
Not Lauren as Adrian knew her.
Her hair was longer.
Dark blond instead of brown.
But unmistakable.
Adrian stopped breathing.
Jonathan leaned over his shoulder.
“Oh.”
Adrian looked at the date printed along the photograph border.
Eight years earlier.
Three years before Hannah died.
Five years before Adrian met Lauren.
“Who is she?” Rose asked.
Adrian turned the photograph over.
Names were written on the back.
Hannah Bennett.
Eric Dalton.
Samuel Reed.
Monica Zhao.
Lena Whitaker.
Adrian stared at the final name.
“Lena.”
Jonathan took the photograph.
“Lauren’s middle name is Elena.”
Adrian looked at him.
Her full legal name after marriage was Lauren Elena Pierce Bennett.
Pierce had been her surname when Adrian met her.
She said it came from a previous marriage.
Before Pierce?
Adrian did not know.
He had never asked.
Or maybe he had.
She once mentioned a maiden name during some conversation.
Whit something.
He could not remember.
Jonathan’s expression changed.
“I know that name.”
“What?”
“Whitaker.”
Adrian looked at him.
“From where?”
Jonathan handed him the photograph.
“Bennett Ridge had an internal investigation about seven or eight years ago.”
Adrian’s chest tightened.
“What investigation?”
“You weren’t involved.”
“It’s my company.”