The third-floor library was a magnificent room—bookshelves from floor to ceiling, wooden ladders to reach the upper books, large windows providing perfect natural light for reading.But that wasn't what caught Serena's attention.In the corner of the room was a small door—almost hidden behind a bookshelf. A simple wooden door without ornamentation.Ethan opened it carefully, as if afraid to disturb something sacred."This is the room," he whispered.Serena stepped inside—and the world seemed to stop.The room was small, perhaps only three square meters. Its walls were soft white. No windows—only light from small lamps embedded in the ceiling, providing warm, gentle illumination.In the center of the room stood a small marble table. On it, a white porcelain urn with lily carvings—the same symbol as the pendant Serena now wore.Serena Blackwood's ashes.Around the urn were photos—photos of Serena smiling, photos of her in her gallery, photos of her in the garden. There was also the diar
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