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Not anymore.

I want to go after her.

Every instinct in me demands it.

Find her. Corner her. Force the rest of the story out of her mouth if I have to. She knows too much to be allowed to walk away.

But too much pain shines in her eyes for me to drag her back by force.

The man my father made me knows what to do with an uncooperative witness.

But Hazel? The mother of my half-brother, apparently? She’s an institution at Vexley House.

Besides, I have other things to do. Because Ella is right.

Audrey must be buried.

The evidence must vanish before dawn.

I throw another shovelful of dirt into the hole.

My breathing is harsh. My hands ache. Dirt cakes the cuffs of my shirt and streaks my forearms.

Ella works beside me.

She shouldn’t be.

She should be miles from here. She should be somewhere warm and safe, untouched by Vexley rot.

Instead, she’s standing in the woods behind my house, burying a woman who tried to destroy her while the ghosts of my father’s crimes haunt me.

I look down.

The earth is uneven around us.

Some places sunken. Some places too fresh with growth. Hazel was right. This isn’t untouched ground. Bodies are buried here.

Is he beneath us?

The thought hits so hard I nearly drop the handle.

Is my own brother buried somewhere under this soil?

Not a man. Not an enemy. Not a rival who moved the wrong money or spoke to the wrong person.

A baby.

A Vexley son.

Arthur’s son.

Hazel’s son.

My half-brother.

My stomach turns so violently I have to look away from the grave.

If my father did that⁠—