Emily Parker had been married less than twelve hours when she discovered her new husband crying over a photograph of a little girl.

The next morning, Thomas behaved as though nothing had happened.

He prepared coffee, chopped firewood, and asked whether she had slept comfortably.

Emily finally gathered her courage.

“Who was Elizabeth?”

The axe stopped in midair.

Thomas slowly lowered it.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Last night. You were holding her picture.”

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then he invited her to sit beside the fireplace.

“Elizabeth was my daughter.”

Emily felt her chest tighten.

“I thought you’d never been married.”

“I was married once. Her mother passed away when Elizabeth was five.”

Thomas looked toward the mountains.

“I raised that little girl alone. She loved reading, playing music, and collecting wildflowers.”

“What happened to her?”

“One winter, I went hunting. A storm came early. By the time I returned, Elizabeth was gone.”

Emily covered her mouth.

Thomas’s voice trembled.

“I searched for three days. Found her little red mitten near the frozen creek. Nothing else.”

Twenty years had passed, yet the grief still lived inside him.

Emily gently touched his hand.

“I’m so sorry.”

Thomas looked startled by her kindness.

“Your father knew what happened,” he said. “He was the man who helped me search.”

Emily lifted her head.

“My father knew you?”

“He was my closest friend. When he became ill, he asked me to make sure you had somewhere safe to live.”

Emily suddenly understood why Thomas had agreed to marry a stranger.

But one question remained.

“Why didn’t you simply take me in as a guest?”

Thomas hesitated.

“Because someone wanted your father’s land, Emily. And they weren’t going to stop with the farm.”

A chill traveled through her.

“What are you talking about?”

Thomas reached beneath a loose floorboard and removed a sealed envelope.

Her father’s handwriting covered the front.

To Emily, when she is finally safe.

Her hands trembled as she opened it.

Inside was a single letter.

The first sentence made her gasp.

“Emily, if you are reading this, the man who claimed our farm has already discovered that I never sold it…”

Then came the final warning.

“Do not trust the man who arranged your journey to the mountains.”

Emily looked up in horror.

Because the wagon driver who had brought her here had promised to return in three days.

And Thomas had just spotted fresh wagon tracks outside the cabin.