It was a small, elegant black jewelry box.
“Olivia’s,” Beatty announced.
“For me?” Olivia Bennett’s eyes widened in surprise. She looked at Beatty, a spark of delight lighting up her face.
Beatty nodded and pressed the box into Olivia’s hands. “It’s yours. Damian said so.”
Olivia figured it must be a gift from her friends. She cradled the box in her palms and beamed. “Thank you, Beatty! What’s inside?”
Beatty answered with a single word, almost a whisper: “Lock.”
Lock?
A lock inside such a delicate box?
Curious, Olivia opened it, and sure enough—a tiny, beautifully crafted lock sat nestled inside the velvet. But this wasn’t just any lock; it looked old-fashioned, almost like a miniature padlock you might find on a secret diary or a keepsake chest.
She blinked in confusion. Wasn’t this the kind of thing people gave to children, as a charm for good luck or protection? She placed a hand on her stomach, not even close to her due date, and wondered if they were preparing a little early.
She glanced at Beatty. “Is this for the baby?”
Beatty shook her head firmly. “Not for the baby. For you, Olivia.” She plucked the lock from the box and pressed it into Olivia’s hand. “Yours. Damian said so.”
Olivia turned the lock over in her palm, still puzzled. Then she noticed something: on the back, someone had carefully etched a tiny letter—a single “M”.
She froze, tracing the letter with her fingertip. “Is this really for me?”
Beatty nodded, serious. “Olivia’s lock. Damian said so.”
Olivia’s brow furrowed. She could understand giving the charm to her unborn child, but to her? Why would they give a grown woman a lock like this?

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