His posture stiffened.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss Mr. Stonewood’s private matters — or those of his staff — with members of the public.”
There it was again, that damn dismissive phrase.Members of the public.Like I was some tabloid reporter or curious townie, not the woman Ben had obsessed over for years. Not the one who’d read his raw confession and left a note begging for a sign they were alive.
The words stung deeper today, cutting through the hollow that worry had carved in my chest.
If Ben wanted me to know anything — if he cared at all — he’d have left a way for me to get in touch with him. A number. A message. Something.
But he hadn’t.
He’d vanished the second I showed the slightest crack in my armor, like he couldn’t face the possibility of real forgiveness. Or like maybe he’d decided I wasn’t worth the risk anymore, since I told him to stay the fuck away from me forever.
I nodded once, sharp and final.
“Fine. Thank you.”
He didn’t stop me as I turned and walked away, frost crunching under my boots.
The wind cut sharper on the way back down the drive, whipping through the pines that crowded the property like they’d been planted to keep the world out. I remembered Ben’s letter — how he’d described this place as a mausoleum after his father died, how he never came back here after the accident turned him into something the town whispered about as if he was a monster.
Granted, there were certain ways he’d proved to me he was perfectly capable of being exactly that, but… was that who he really was at his core? I couldn’t say for sure.
Ashgrove House loomed behind me, its turrets stabbing at the gray sky, its windows like dark eyes, watching my retreat. It looked exactly like the kind of fortress a scarred billionaire would hide behind… or run from.
I stopped halfway to my car, breath fogging, and stared up at it. If Ben was in there — if he’d come home without telling anyone — he was choosing to face every ghost he’d avoided for years. And he was choosing to do it alone. Maybe that butler was lying to me about Ben not being in residence.
Or maybe he really wasn’t in there at all. Maybe Vivian’s people had already moved in, preparing for her victory lap on Christmas Eve.
The thought twisted something cold in my gut, and the not knowing was driving me insane. I climbed into my car andslammed the door harder than necessary, hands shaking on the wheel.
Granny Irene was waiting. She was the only person who wouldn’t lie to my face or shut a door on me.
Bayview Hospice smelled like disinfectant,lavender lotion, and the faint sweetness of the poinsettias families brought for the holidays. The nurses smiled warmly as I signed in — they always did when residents had someone who showed up consistently.
Granny Irene was by the window again, blanket over her knees, watching birds flutter at the feeder outside. Her face lit up when she saw me, hazy recognition sharpening into joy.
“There’s my Chrissy-girl,” she said, voice thin but bright. “You’re early again.”
“No work anymore,” I said, pulling up a chair and taking her frail hand in mine. “Thought I’d steal the whole day this time.”
“That sounds perfect.” She squeezed my fingers with surprising strength. “You look worried, baby. More than tired.”
I leaned my head lightly on her shoulder, breathing in the familiar vanilla-and-lavender scent that always meant home.
“I am worried. About a friend — Lucia. She’s in trouble with her husband. Bad trouble. And the people who could help her… they’re just gone. No one knows where.”
Granny hummed softly, stroking my hair like she had when I was small and afraid of thunderstorms.
“The kind of trouble that makes folks disappear?”
“Yeah.” My voice cracked a little. “And Ben — the man I told you about — he’s one of the ones missing. With only days left before his stepmother shows up and takes everything from him.”
She was quiet for a moment, thumb tracing circles on my knuckles.
“If he’s the man I think he might be, he’ll find his way to you before the clock runs out.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
