Daniel.
“I’m sorry,” I said to my grandma. “I have to take this.”
Daniel and I talked often, usually late at night when neither of us could sleep. However, he rarely called first. He always left it to me, saying he didn’t want to be a burden or seem too pushy. For him to call now could mean only one thing.
When I answered, the tone of his voice confirmed it.
“Emily?”
“Yes,” I said, forcing a small smile for my grandmother. She stood, quietly motioning toward the kitchen to give me privacy. I nodded in thanks, watching her go.
On the other end, his breath hitched.
“I . . . I’m so sorry.”
The silence that followed was heavy and endless.
He didn’t need to say another word.
I already knew.
My mother was dead.
Chapter 31
We stood on the small concrete pier at the Breakers—the same one where we’d dropped Michael Winthrop’s remains into the deep blue sea after the storm.
The water stretched out endlessly, glittering in the spring sun. Seagulls circled high above, their sharp cries cutting through the steady sound of waves. A soft breeze carried the salty air.
Daniel accepted the urn from Hudson with a quiet nod. Hudson had fully recovered, which was an incredible relief.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Hudson said. His gaze lingered on the urn. “Goodbye, Cynthia. I hope you find peace, wherever you are now.” He stood there a moment longer, then turned and walked up the long staircase back to the Breakers.
Daniel stepped closer and carefully handed the urn to me. It was simple but beautiful: smooth, cream-colored limestone, cool beneath my fingers.
“How did she die?” I asked softly, my arms tightening around it.
Daniel hesitated, his lips pinched, his eyes shifting away briefly like he was considering sparing me. Then his gaze met mine, steady and unflinching, as if he’d sworn it out loud: no more secrets.
“Suicide,” he said. “An overdose of her sleep medication. It came out of nowhere. She’d shown no signs of suicidal thoughts. Ever. I had her evaluated by a psychiatrist after you left. He adjusted her prescriptions but cleared her of any risk. Even after everything that happened that night, Hudson didn’t want to involve the police, and she begged us to let her stay here. Irespected both of their wishes and let her stay. We reinforced the doors and let Tara go with a generous severance. I thought I’d told you that before. Except for that part about the suicide. Sorry if I didn’t. I haven’t been myself lately.”
“No, you did,” I said quietly. “And thank you for taking such good care of her. She refused to leave, and you let her stay. You turned the basement into a luxurious apartment. You kept her safe from prison and those cruel psych wards. Putting yourself in danger to do it. I don’t know anyone else who would have done even a fraction of what you’ve done for me.”
His eyes widened slightly, and something shifted in his expression. It was relief, faint but visible. It warmed me to see even a sliver of peace in him. He looked tired. His elegant black suit fit him perfectly, but he’d lost weight, and the dark circles under his eyes told me how many nights he’d gone without sleep. Seeing him like that broke me in ways I couldn’t name. My love for him hadn’t just survived all this. It had grown. He was vulnerable and worn, the boy I once knew lingering in the man beside me. The one I’d always protect. Always love.
“None of this is your fault, Daniel,” I said, stepping toward the edge of the pier. “It was her last wish to rest here?”
He nodded. “There was a note. Hudson found it next to her body. It only said to put her in the water. But I thought that’s a bit much. So I paid cash at a funeral home that didn’t ask questions, and for the right price, had her cremated off the books.”
I opened the urn and tipped it over. The ashes poured out, carried by the breeze, scattering into the sunlight before falling into the restless sea. The waves swallowed what remained without ceremony.
I stood still for a long moment. The sadness was there, heavy and complicated, but I wasn’t sure who I was mourning. Cynthia? My father? His mother? My grandpa? Maybe all of us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Daniel watching me, his gaze steady, searching my face for something I wasn’t sure he’d find.
Was it strange that I didn’t cry? Did that make me heartless?
Anger stirred too, sharp and crystal clear.
