Lorna strode into the room, flopped onto the couch, crossed her legs, and let out


    a dramatic sigh. "How much longer am I supposed to y this wretched, universally despised viiness?"


    Stewart turned, taking in Lorna''s insolent, slouched posture on the couch, but he was used to her antics by now.


    "Ferdinand''s reached out to the Wentworths."


    Lorna paused mid-stretch. "So he''s finally going back to his roots?"


    He nodded. "Looks like it."


    She snorted. "Stealing your wife and kids wasn''t enough for him-now he''s after your assets too, huh?"


    Stewart''s dark eyes chilled. "We can leak the news about that Northside property."


    Lorna arched a brow, draping herself over the back of her chair to study him. "elerating your little trap, are we?"


    "Someone out there is even more impatient than we are. We can''t drag this out any longer."


    ...


    Over the weekend, Briony devoted herself to the kids.


    Little Mario seemed perfectly content as long as he was with Nina, not onceining about homework.


    Carol, on the other hand, took several calls from Lorna. Each time, she''d step outside to answer, and when she returned, her face was troubled.


    Briony knew exactly what was going on-Lorna was hounding Carol about Mario''s homework again.


    Briony had seen the assignments. Most of them were well beyond what a four- year-old should be expected to tackle, and there were so many of them. At that age, kids'' fingers are still so delicate, but Lorna insisted on Mario grinding through endless exercises every day. Briony didn''t approve of her methods at all.


    But she also knew she couldn''t bring her son home to live with her, at least not yet. So she never said a bad word about Lorna in front of Mario.


    He was too little to understand the conflicts between adults, and Briony couldn''t bear the thought that he might end up afraid of Lorna because of it.


    After dinner on Sunday, Briony personally drove Mario back to Southcreek Manor. She only apanied him as far as the front gate, letting Carol take him inside. Briony watched them disappear into the house before turning her car around. In the darkness, her taillights faded slowly into the night.


    Stewart drew his gaze back from the window and turned toward the ink painting hanging beside him.


    The figure in the painting had a cold, severe profile; only the eyes and brows betrayed any emotion, but even that was nothing but a chilling indifference. Just as Briony had once described him.


    He coughed, pressing a handkerchief to his mouth-


    "Dad?"


    The study door swung open, and little Mario came running in, clutching a new storybook.


    "Mom bought me a new story! Will you read it to me, Dad?"


    Stewart quickly balled up the bloodstained handkerchief in his palm, then bent down and scooped his son into his arms.


    He nced at the book Mario was holding, his voice still rough from the cough. "Did you have fun at Mom''s?"


    "I did!" Mario grinned. "Last night I slept with Mom, and she sang a luby for me and Nina!"


    Stewart''s features softene as carried Mario out the study toward the kids''


    room.


    Passing through the hallway, he tossed the handkerchief into the trash.


    "Did Mom ask you anything?"


    Mario shook his head. "She just wanted to know if I was happy here. I answered just like you told me to."


    "You did great," Stewart said, setting him down on the bed. "Lie down now."


    Mario obedientlyy back, small and perfectly still, his big dark eyes fixed on Stewart.


    Looking at those eyes, Stewart couldn''t help but see Briony in them.


    In fact, if you looked closely, Mario''s eyes and brows were more like,


    Briony''s, but his face shape, nose,


    and mouth were all Stewel.ne


    He realized, with a strange, bittersweet pride, that as Mario grew older, he''d look


    more and more like him.


    But by then, Stewart wouldn''t be around.


    "Mario, did Mom ever ask you about Dad?"


    Mario, honest as ever, shook his head. "No."


    Just as he''d expected.


    Stewart smiled ruefully.


    He knew it was a pointless question, but couldn''t help asking anyway, as if he still


    hoped for something he could never have.


    He opened the storybook, his deep voice gentle as he began to read:


    "Tonight''s story is about a little bear named Danny. Danny poked his head out of his den and stepped into the crisp autumn morning. A breeze rustled through the trees, sending waves through the golden leaves..."


    Mario closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with his father''s warm, low voice in his ears, dreaming of a little bear ed Danny and the adventures waiting for him.