THE MAID’S LITTLE GIRL QUIETLY PLACED A CENTURY-OLD RING IN THE BILLIONAIRE’S HAND

Hannah stared at her daughter, her breathing shallow and ragged. The library suddenly felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of it. Adrian slowly rose to his feet, the rose gold ring still clutched in his palm like a lifeline.

"Maisie," Adrian said, his voice softer than Hannah had ever heard it. "Who is the blue lady?"

Maisie pointed a chubby finger toward the grand hallway beyond the open library doors. "The lady in the big picture. She has a blue dress. She came to my room when I was sleeping and said the sad man needed his shiny stone back."

Adrian felt a cold sweat break across his neck. At the end of the grand hall hung a life-sized oil portrait of Eleanor, painted three years before the crash. She was wearing a sapphire-blue evening gown that matched the ring perfectly.

"My husband, David, was a mechanic," Hannah blurted out, her voice trembling as she tried to pull Adrian’s attention away from the ghost story and back to reality. "He used to service the estate vehicles. But he died, Mr. Mercer. A year ago. A hit-and-run on Interstate 95. He never spoke of this ring. I swear to you, I didn't know."

Adrian’s mind raced. David Reed had been the lead mechanic for the Mercer family fleet. He had been the one to inspect Eleanor’s SUV the morning of the accident.