Briony had a dream.
In it, she was sharing a holiday dinner with her mother.
Her mother smiled and praised her cooking.
Briony laughed, but tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Mom…”
Sprawled across the big bed, Briony’s brow furrowed as her tears soaked the pillow beneath her.
She murmured restlessly, clutching the front of her nightshirt in pain, her suffering almost unbearable.
In her dream, her mother said she was tired, and from now on, Briony would have to walk her own path alone.
Briony begged her not to leave, but her mother only faded away into the mist that drifted across the river. No matter how desperately Briony called, she never appeared again.
“Mom!”
Briony jolted awake.
For a moment, as she stared up at the familiar ceiling, the world felt strange and distant.
“Mommy!”
At the foot of the bed, Irwin abandoned his toys and scrambled over to her side.
“Did you have a bad dream, Mommy?”
Briony looked at him, her mind slowly clearing from the fog.
This was Southcreek Manor.
But… how had she ended up here?
She pressed her hands against the mattress, pushing herself upright, and rubbed her aching temples.
She could barely recall—she’d gone down to the river, maybe even climbed over the fence…
Everything after that was a blur.
“Mommy? Why are you crying?” Irwin reached up and touched her damp cheek. “You were crying in your sleep, too. You kept calling for your mom.”
Briony gazed at him.
The concern in his young eyes was genuine, impossible to fake.
But when he frowned in worry, there was something in the set of his brows that reminded her of Rosita.
Briony’s face was icy, unwilling to waste even a word on him.
Of course she was leaving—but Southcreek Manor was miles from Dolphin Cove, and on New Year’s Eve, getting a cab would be nearly impossible.
She’d left the house in a daze, hadn’t even brought her phone.
If Stella woke up and found her missing, she’d be beside herself with worry.
“Mommy!”
Irwin rushed to her side, grabbing her hand again.
“Don’t go, please? It’s New Year’s Eve! Mommy, we always spent New Year’s together, remember?”
Briony shut her eyes, took a slow, deep breath, and forced herself to swallow the surge of emotion.
When she opened her eyes again, they were cold and hard.
She pulled her hand away, turned to Stewart, and said, “If you don’t want me to take my anger out on your son, then get someone to drive me home. Now.”
Stewart frowned. “I know I can’t deny my responsibility for what happened to your mother. But Irwin is just a child—he had nothing to do with it. And I know you, Briony. You’ve never been the type to blame a child for an adult’s mistakes.”
“You’re wrong,” Briony said, shaking off Irwin’s hand. “His birth mother is Rosita. I told you already—if anything happened to my mom, you and Rosita would be the ones I blame.”
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