Page 310 of The Defiant Curse

Elizabeth lifted a brow.

“They’re solid stone,” she said, picking one up, to see that it was NOT solid stone. Instead, there was a little burlap sack. Sticking her fingers in it, they heard more crying all around them.

Oh, boy.

“It’s the proof you need.”

That was all Sarah said.

As Elizabeth gingerly pulled the paper out, she opened it, and the whole time, it was disintegrating in her hands.

If they were lucky, they’d get one shot at this.

“Gabs, I need you to take a picture when I open it. We’ll have to use tech to see what it says. This paper is so brittle. I want to preserve what it says.”

She grabbed her phone from her back pocket, and when Elizabeth opened the paper, she snapped a picture of it. As soon as she did, it began chipping apart and falling through her fingers like little fragments of paper snow.

“I hope you got that,” Elizabeth said.

Yeah, her too.

Pulling up the picture, she saw the words, and they were semi-legible.

But not in English.

Gabby knew what she needed to do. She had software on her phone that the FBI used, and she’d access that.

“Give me a second, and I’ll get a translation and re-pixelation of the photo.”

That worked for her.

As they did, the men began cleaning up the fireplace façade, sweeping up the debris.

They had it in neat piles.

“I don’t know what to do now,” Graham stated. “I’m going to have to get Callen to authorize repairs again. This façade was marble. It was expensive.”

Ethan stopped him.

“Just do it. I own a portion of the castle, too, and I’m telling you to put it back the way it was. Get the gargoyles repaired. Put them back like Callen wanted. He won’t care about the money, and neither will Chris. No one got hurt. That was the bottom line. Oh, and get it done by the wedding.”

Yeah, that was paramount.

The party was going to be in here.

“I have something,” Gabby said, as the software produced a translation of the letter before it was destroyed.

Handing her phone to Elizabeth, she read it.

‘My sister,

He has been brought home from war. Cathal did not make it. I’m sorry to be sending you this. Maybe it was meant to be. You can now live your life there and pass the baby off as Duncan’s. I will visit his grave and put flowers on it for you. Plant that field of heather in his memory. You need to get rid of his lover for your own good.

I’m sorry.

Catherine.’

And there it was.