Lenora accepted the pendant. Her fingers trembled.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Mr. Wilson nodded, then hesitated.
“I knew your parents,” he said. “Not well enough to claim closeness. But well enough to say they were kind when they didn’t need to be. Your mother used to bring coffee to the night staff during winter events. Your father knew everyone’s name. Every gardener. Every driver. Every kitchen assistant.”
Lenora blinked hard.
“I wish I remembered them.”
“I know,” he said. “But they would have remembered you every second.”
She pressed the pendant against her palm.
“Did they know they were in danger?”
Mr. Wilson looked at Vincent, and something unspoken passed between the two men.
Vincent answered carefully. “There were concerns. Old disputes. Business conflicts. People around large fortunes often become dangerous in quiet ways. Your parents took precautions because they loved you, not because they wanted you to live in fear.”
