Celeste Wainwright violently shoved three-year-old Nora off the piano bench

The cinematic, bright sunlight continued to pour through the arched windows, indifferent to the absolute destruction that had just occurred. Nolan slowly lowered his gaze to the antique diamond ring resting against his polished shoe. The piece of jewelry had been an Ashford family heirloom for three generations. He had given it to Celeste a year ago, believing he was fulfilling his duty to the family syndicate by forging a strategic alliance.

Nolan slowly bent down. His tailored dark three-piece suit shifted elegantly as he reached out and picked up the ring. The heavy diamond caught the light, but it was not the stone that drew his attention.

He had never looked closely at the inner band since retrieving it from the family vault. He had simply handed it to a jeweler for polishing before the proposal. Now, as the sunlight hit the polished gold interior, a faint, dark shadow caught his sharp eye.

Nolan turned the ring over, angling it toward the window.

Inside the band, etched with meticulous, delicate precision, was a tiny engraving.

“NOLAN + MAE.”

Nolan stopped breathing. His cold, intimidating eyes widened for a fraction of a second. The words were impossible. He had never met the maid, Mae Harper, before she was hired by the estate manager a year ago. He had never spoken more than a dozen words to her. Yet here, inside a century-old family heirloom, their names were inextricably bound together in gold.

He slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder.

Mae was staring at the ring in his hand. Her fair, rosy skin was completely pale, her blue eyes wide with a terrifying, absolute shock. She lifted her hand to her mouth, her fingers trembling violently. It wasn't the shock of seeing her name; it was the shock of a memory violently tearing through a heavy, dark veil in her mind.

"You..." Mae whispered, her voice barely audible. "That ring... I remember that ring."

Nolan’s sharply defined jawline tightened. He looked back toward the engagement-flower display. Celeste was pushing herself up onto her elbows, spitting blood from her cut lip. Her elegant dress was ruined, covered in crushed white petals and dirt. She looked at the ring in Nolan’s hand, and her face became overwhelmingly, intensely frightened.

"Nolan, listen to me," Celeste choked out, her American accent frantic and desperate. "It's a mistake. The jeweler made a mistake with the engraving."