"You came back?"

Dominic was back at the Newport mansion by early afternoon.

The rain had stopped entirely.

Pale winter light came through the tall windows of the entrance hall and lay across the floor in long, quiet strips.

Emma met him at the door.

"Natalie wants to speak with you," she said.

"She's been waiting."

"Where?"

"The kitchen."

He found his sister at the kitchen table with two cups of tea — one in front of her, one across from her.

She had made it before he arrived, the way she used to do when they were younger and she wanted to talk about something difficult and needed the ritual of the cup to make it easier.

He sat down.

"You went to see Marcus," she said.

"Yes."

"Is it finished?"

"It will be by Friday."

Natalie wrapped both hands around her cup.

She looked at the table for a moment.

"I want to tell you something," she said.

"And I need you to just listen.

Not fix it.

Just listen."

"All right."

"I knew something was wrong," she said.

"Not about Marcus or the properties or any of that.

But I knew something was wrong with Brooke.

I knew it from the first month." She looked up.

"And I said nothing because I thought — I was so sure — that you were happy.

And I had already taken so much from you.

The room.

The space.

The worry.

I didn't want to be the grieving sister who ruined your engagement."

"Natalie—"

"I said listen."

He closed his mouth.

"Noah knew too.

He's nine, but he's not blind.

He told me once that Brooke smiled differently when you were in the room." Natalie's voice was steady, but her eyes were bright.

"He said it was like a light switch.

I told him that wasn't a kind thing to say.

He said, Mom, I'm not being unkind.

I'm just telling you what I see." She paused.

"He was right.

He was right and I told him not to say it."

Dominic looked at his sister.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I should have told you.

I kept thinking — he'll see it.

He'll figure it out.

He's Dominic.

He figures everything out." A small, tired sound that was almost a laugh.

"And you did.

You just needed to come home first."

"I should have come home more."

"Yes." She said it simply, without accusation.

"You should have."

He took that.

"The cottage," he said.

"I don't need to talk about the cottage right now."

"I do." He leaned forward.

"It's yours.

It's Noah's.

It was always yours.

I'm having the trust reviewed by independent counsel this week — someone with no connection to Hale or anyone Brooke had contact with.

When it's done, I want you to have a key.

A real one.

Not a copy.

The original."

Natalie looked at him.

"Mom's key?" she said quietly.

"It's on Emma's ring.

She's been keeping it."

Natalie pressed her lips together.

Her eyes filled — not the controlled almost-cry from earlier, but something fuller, something that had been waiting longer.

"She would have hated this," Natalie said.

"Mom.

She would have been so angry."

"She would have been terrifying," Dominic agreed.

Natalie laughed.

It came out a little broken, and then more whole, and then she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked at him across the two cups of tea.

"What happens now?" she asked.

"Now Brooke is gone.

Hale is filing his disclosure.

Marcus's offers will be withdrawn by Friday.

The trust is being restored." He picked up his cup.

"And I'm going to be home more."

"You keep saying that."

"I mean it this time."

"You always mean it."

"This time I mean it and I've been sufficiently frightened into following through."

She looked at him for a moment.

Then she reached across the table and put her hand over his.

She didn't say anything.

She didn't need to.

Outside, through the kitchen window, the east cottage was visible across the garden — its stone walls dark from the morning's rain, its windows reflecting the pale afternoon light.

Noah appeared in the kitchen doorway in his socks, still carrying the stuffed baseball mascot.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes," Natalie said.

"Is Brooke coming back?"

"No," Dominic said.

Noah considered this.