Stewart swallowed hard, his Adam''s apple bobbing. "So, you never once thought about bringing our daughter home, did you?"
"Of course not," Briony replied, her voice cold. "Every time I look at you, all I can see is my son. Stewart, you''ve never understood-my son is dead. I hate Rosita and Irwin, but the person I hate most... is you."
Stewart''s pupils constricted, shock flickering across his face.
"After he died, every single time I saw you, I wanted nothing more than to drive a knife straight through your heart."
He stared at her, frozen.
"I hate you for always enabling Rosita, for forcing me to stay because of Irwin. But what I hate most is how, when you found out it was Rosita who killed our son, you did nothing. The thing I hate most... the thing I can never forgive..."
Briony''s chest heaved, her voice trembling. "You wouldn''t even let me see him onest time."
"That was my child," she choked out, "my flesh and blood. Even when I''d lost all hope in you, he was still my family. But because of you, because of all of you, I lost him. Forever! Stewart, how dare you even dream that we could ever go back to the way things were?"
Thatst sentence tore from her in a raw, anguished shout.
A sharp, unfamiliar pain twisted in Stewart''s chest.
For the first time, he felt Briony''s emotions with brutal rity-the weight of her hatred, the depth of her resentment. Her eyes were rimmed with red, brimming with nothing but me and fury.
In that moment, it was as if another voice echoed inside his mind: You can''t go back. She''s nevering back.
A surge of panic rose up in him, an emotion so foreign it nearly overwhelmed him. His rationality, his certainty-everything he clung to-splintered in an instant.
"I... I can change..."
He took a step forward, but Briony instantly stepped back.
He stopped dead, helpless, staring at her.
She watched him with wary, angry eyes, her gaze filled with nothing but loathing and distrust.
Stewart felt like his feet were rooted to the spot.
Even though her words and her expression had already given him the answer, he still couldn''t let go.
"We still have Little Nina," he pleaded, desperate now. "For our daughter''s sake, can''t we at least-"
"Don''t use our child to hold me hostage! Briony''s patience snapped, her voice rising. "What is a child to you, Stewart? Honestly-do you even know how to love a child? Do you know what it means to be a father?"
Stewart''s eyes flickered, that pain in his chest intensifying with every word she hurled at him.
"After everything that''s happened, I don''t have any na?ve hopes that you''ll actually care for Little Nina. To you, she''s just a pawn—a way to keep me trapped."
"That''s not true..." Stewart''s voice was hoarse, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love her. I really do..."
"Love?" Briony let out a bitterugh. "Do you even know what that word
means? Take Irwin, for
example you always said you loved him. Sure, you gave him a
novelone
Confusion clouded Stewart''s dark eyes.
"Face it, Stewart. You don''t know how to love anyone. All you ever do is weigh your options, calcte gains and losses. Everythingis about control and oues."
Briony took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her voice was cold now. "Living
with someone like you-it''s suffocating."
With that, she stopped looking at him. She turned, walking straight toward
James''s white Range Rover parked by the curb.
Stewart didn''t follow.
He just stood there, watching her walk away.
Under the glow of the streetlights, her figure stretched out on the pavement-a shadow growing longer and fainter.
He watched, numb, as she moved further and further away.
All around him, Northborough''s summer night glittered with neon lights, cars
streaming through the streets, people hurrying home.
The white Range Rover slipped into the darkness.
Stewart''s eyshes fluttered. He stared at the endless flow of cars on the road, feeling utterly lost.
So many people returning home tonight.
But not him.