The next morning, Briony set out early for the Wentworth family cemetery.


    Thest time she''d visited, the groundskeeper had already known who she was. This time, too, he simply nodded and let her through without a word.


    Carrying tworge bags, Briony made her way to her son''s grave.


    But when she reached the spot, her heart stopped-her son''s headstone was gone.


    She was certain this was the right ce.


    She remembered it so clearly-it was right next to Grandpa Wentworth''s grave.


    But now, there was nothing there. No headstone. Not even a mark on the grass.


    For a moment, Briony thought maybe she''d gotten it wrong.


    Setting her bags down, she pulled out her phone and called Cedric rke.


    "Dr. rke, I''m at the Wentworth family cemetery," she said.


    Cedric sounded startled. "You''re at the family cemetery?"


    "Yes," Briony replied, her voice quiet. "I n to leave Northborough soon. Before I go, I wanted to visit my son onest time, but...I can''t find his headstone."


    There was a pause on the other end. "Maybe you should call Stewart and ask him directly," Cedric suggested after a moment.


    Briony frowned at the hesitation in his voice. "Alright."


    She hung up and, with a deep breath, pulled Stewart''s number out of her blocked contacts.


    The phone rang several times before he finally picked up.


    "Bryn," came his low, tentative voice.


    "Stewart," Briony''s anger simmered beneath the surface, "what happened to my son''s grave?"


    There was a long pause.


    "Where are you right now?" Stewart asked quietly.


    "I''m at the Wentworth cemetery."


    Another silence. Then: "Our son isn''t there."


    Briony''s patience snapped. Her voice shook with rage and grief. "Stewart! Our son


    is gone, and you''re still ying these games? Why can''t you let him rest in peace?"


    "Bryn, you''ve misunderstood," Stewart said, his voice grave. "I mean...the child buried there-it was never our son."


    Briony froze.


    "What are you talking about?"


    "I was nning to tell you soon. I didn''t expect you to go to the cemetery today."


    Stewart sighed, the sound heavy. "Since you''ve found out,e to Sunset Ridge Vis. I''ll exin everything."


    Briony''s grip tightened around her phone. "What does that mean? Stewart, what are you saying?"


    "Bryn, our son—he''s alive," Stewart said quietly. "He''s alive, and he''s safe." Briony''s vision blurred. Her knees nearly buckled.


    He''s alive.


    Her son is alive.


    Alive-truly, miraculously alive.


    Tears streaming down her cheeks, Briony turned and ran down the hillside, barely aware of anything but the hope pounding in her chest.


    She scrambled into her car, hands trembling as she turned the key in the ignition, and sped toward Sunset Ridge Vis.


    Her knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. Twice she nearly ran a red light, but somehow, she made it there in one piece.


    mming the brakes, she parked outside the gates and hurried inside.


    The staff seemed to be expecting her. As she rushed past, they


    greeted her with respectful "


    "


    but Briony couldn''t have care!et


    about formalities.


    She fixed her gaze on one of the maids. "Where''s Stewart?"


    "He''s in the study, on the second floor."


    Briony didn''t wait for more. She


    mounted the stairs two at a timet


    and str?de straight to the study flinging the door open without knocking.


    Stewart stood by the window. He turned at the sound, just in time for Briony to


    p him hard across the face.


    The sharp crack echoed in the room, a red mark instantly blossoming on his cheek.


    He didn''t react in anger. Instead,


    when he saw the tears streaminget


    down Briony''s face, something vulnerable flickered in his dark eyes.


    "Bryn, don''t cry. Our son-he''s alright. He''s really alright."


    "Where is he?" Briony''s voice trembled. "Stewart, where did you hide my son?"