Briony''s scalp prickled as the words hit her.


    There was something chillingly deranged about Stewart''s calm. It was the kind ofposure that made your skin crawl, as if madness lurked just beneath the


    surface.


    He''d kidnapped her today-who was to say he wouldn''t do the same to their daughter one day?


    She forced herself not to let her mind go there.


    "Stewart, no matter how busy I was on business trips, I always called Little Nina every night before bed-she''d say goodnight to me, every single night. I haven''t seen her face in over twenty-four hours now. She''s just a little girl, she won''t understand."


    "That''s nothing you need to worry about," Stewart replied, utterly unruffled. "I told the nanny you''re somewhere remote, bad reception, can''t make video calls."


    Briony pressed her lips together.


    Of course. If Stewart had gone so far as to kidnap her, he''d make sure to keep up appearances everywhere else.


    "Please, just let me call her. She''s four, Stewart. If she goes too long without talking to me, she''ll get scared."


    "That depends on you." Stewart''s gaze pinned her. "Bryn, if you cooperate, I won''t keep you here forever. Just a week. I just want you to stay with me for one week."


    A week?


    Every second in Stewart''s presence felt like suffocating.


    "Stewart, there''s nothing left between us. This is pointless," Briony pleaded, staring him down. "Let me go now and I won''t call the police."


    "Not happening." Stewart''s lips curled in a cold smile. "A week, Bryn. Not a day less."


    Briony was livid. "You''re insane! I can''t stand being here one day, let alone a week!"


    "Aren''t you curious why I need you here for a week?" Stewart asked quietly.


    "I don''t care!" Briony snapped, eyes zing. "I just want to go home to my daughter!"


    But Stewart just let out a lowugh, speaking as if to himself. "I''ve signed the divorce papers, Bryn. This time, I really mean to let you go."


    "But I can''t help feeling... unsettled. I keep thinking, over and over, how did we end up like this?"


    Briony let out a bitter, icyugh. "You don''t know, Stewart?"


    He met her gaze, expression pained. "No. I don''t."


    "You don''t know?" Briony''s voice shook with anger and disbelief. "You really think kidnapping me will help you figure it out? You should be on your knees at your son''s grave, begging forgiveness. Maybe if you''re lucky, his ghost wille back and tell you why!"


    "That''s not it." Stewart gave a tired, helpless smile. "You loved me once, didn''t you?"


    Briony froze.


    "Bryn, those five years together-weren''t they real? Weren''t they good?"


    Stewart''s voice was almost gentle.


    She red at him, brows drawn tight.


    "You stayed for five years because you wanted to-because you loved me. You treated Irwin as your own, all because of that love, right?"


    Briony refused to answer.


    Once, she had loved Stewart, hopelessly andpletely.


    He''d helped her when her world was falling apart, when she had no one left. When her mother went to prison, when both the Kensington and Hudson families abandoned her, Stewart gave her a ce to belong-even if that home was built on a contract.


    Her feelings hadn''t been love at first sight. It was gratitude, at first; then, over time, it grew into something deeper, something real.


    Those five years-they were real. Every day and night, she''d hidden her love for Stewart in the quiete details of their life. She never dared hope he''d return her feelings. Their marriage was supposed to be an arrangement, a safe ce where neither owed the other anything more than what was written in ck and white.


    She''d thought, naively, that maybe they''d go on like that forever.


    Then Rosita returned. Then Stewart looked her in the eye and told her that Rosita


    was Irwin''s real mother.


    Maybe the truth of Irwin''s parentage


    didn''t matter now. What mattered was that, when it counted, Stewart couldn''t be bothered to offer her even a single word of exnation. That was when Briony realized: in this marriage built on mutual need, she was the only one who ever cared.


    To Stewart, she''d never been more than a ceholder-a wife who didn''t even deserve an exnation.


    Briony shut her eyes. "Yes. I loved you."


    For the first time, she admitted it. She said it out loud, inly, with no more hiding.


    Stewart''s eyes flickered at her confession. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Briony continued—