A Widow's Poison, A Wife's Rebellion novel Chapter 242

Every word from Darleen was a command.

The phrase "relapse constantly" echoed in Fairfax's mind, merging with something Herbert had told him just last night: There's something wrong with Brinley's depression.

The two thoughts swirled together in his head, growing louder and more insistent.

Darleen, in a rush to get to the hospital, had hung up after a few brief instructions. The car pulled into the parking lot outside the Luwood Mountain estate.

Fairfax closed his eyes, not getting out immediately. Instead, he lit a cigarette and smoked in silence. After a long, chaotic night, the sky was already beginning to lighten.

Gabriel glanced at his boss in the rearview mirror.

“Still no news about the child?” Fairfax asked.

“Nothing,” Gabriel confirmed with a shake of his head.

Fairfax took another drag from his cigarette, his gaze fixed on a golden rain tree in the gray morning light. Starla loved those trees, always saying how beautiful their autumn blossoms were. She also loved the pink silk trees, adoring their distinct fragrance. After learning that, Fairfax had made a habit of planting both wherever he thought she might live. It was late autumn now. The flowers on the rain tree had dried into husks, but its leaves were still a vibrant green.

Hearing Gabriel’s report, Fairfax’s expression deepened. He then asked a question that had nothing to do with the child. “What do you make of Brinley’s depression?”

It wasn't the first time Herbert had brought it up. In fact, he seemed to mention it every time they met recently, warning him at least two or three times.

“And then there are the children,” he continued. “What mother doesn't love her children? After they were born, one of them was constantly sick. That must have been a tremendous blow to her.”

Faraday's death had been hard enough. Then, to finally have children only for one to be unwell, and now for the other to be missing…

As Gabriel laid out the facts, Fairfax found himself agreeing. It seemed impossible that Brinley’s depression was an act. He looked exactly like his brother, which would explain her behavior over the past six months.

Fairfax rubbed his temples, a headache brewing. Herbert’s repeated warnings had sown a seed of doubt, but Gabriel's logical breakdown had all but stamped it out.

Yet, even as he found himself convinced that Brinley’s illness was real, he still said, “Look into it anyway.”