Alone.
Safe.
Definitely her.
Emma let out a sob of pure relief, hands flying to her mouth. James sagged onto the nearest bench like his bones had dissolved. He scrubbed a hand over his face, shoulders shaking once with the force of the exhale.
“She’s okay,” he whispered. “She’s okay.”
Noah leaned in, tapping the corner of the photo. “The Sand and Sip café is only fifteen minutes’ drive from here.”
“I’m going,” James said immediately, already on his feet.
Emma wiped her eyes. “I’m coming too.”
Margaret also attempted to rise, “I should come too…”
“No,” the rest of us said in unison.
Lady Beaumont added, “Do sit down, Margaret. You’ve caused quite enough drama for one morning.”
The three of us, James, Emma, and myself, headed for the parking area at a speed just shy of a jog.
Two members of the estate’s security team fell into step nearby, clearly having caught the tail end of the commotion. Their radios crackled loudly as they followed, exchanging a look that saidwe’re coming whether you like it or not.
James shot them a tight nod. “Stay here,” he instructed, his voice carrying the kind of authority he rarely used but everyone listened to. “If she’s there, she doesn’t need a crowd.”
One of the guards hesitated. “Sir…”
“Stay,” James repeated firmly. “We’ll handle it.”
They backed off instantly, positioning themselves at the edge of the courtyard, ready but out of the way.
And then we kept moving, hearts racing, every step pushing us closer to where Caroline might be.
The air in the SUV felt thick from tension alone. Emma sat in the front texting furiously, probably drafting ten apologies at once. James stared out the window as vineyards blurred by, his knee bouncing nonstop.
“She wasn’t running away,” I said to him gently. “She just needed space.”
James swallowed. “I know. But I… pushed her into having space somewhere else.”
We fell quiet.
As the car climbed the final hill towards the cafe, the ocean finally opened out in front of us, wide, blue, and almost offensively beautiful in that very Margaret River way. Waves rolled onto the white sand below in endless lines while the salty breeze whipped around us, dragging the smell of sea spray and hot chips up from the café beneath the lookout.
A couple of surfers bobbed out beyond the break, looking far calmer than anyone sitting voluntarily in freezing water should ever look, while tourists wandered past clutching takeaway coffees and squinting into the sun. The coastal scrub rustled in the wind, gulls cried overhead, and everything felt strangely peaceful considering my stomach was somewhere near my throat.
And there she was.
Sitting exactly where the fan photo had captured her. Hugging her knees and staring out at the water like she was trying to disappear into it.
James’s breath left him in one sharp, broken sound, more confession than exhale.
“Go,” I urged.
He didn’t wait. He was out of the car in one movement, like something in him snapped free.
“Caroline!”
