The sky over Cedar Ridge Cemetery looked unusually pale that day, a soft gray blanket stretching endlessly above rows of headstones that seemed to whisper stories of loss and unfinished lives. The wind moved slowly through the tall oak trees surrounding the burial grounds, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and fading flowers.
Olivia stood silently beside the fresh grave of her mother, Eleanor Bennett. The soil was still dark and uneven, barely settled after the funeral that had taken place only hours earlier. White lilies, her mother’s favorite flowers, had already begun to droop under the chilly wind.
Her hand rested protectively on the curve of her belly.
Seven months pregnant.
Seven months of quiet hope that the child she carried would grow up in a warm home filled with stability and love.
But the man standing beside her no longer looked like the husband she thought she knew.
Christopher Hale flipped through a stack of documents inside a leather folder with the detached focus of a businessman reviewing a contract. His expensive coat fluttered slightly in the wind, but his expression remained calm—almost impatient.
