Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

In the pediatric wing of the hospital, Dustin was pacing like a caged lion, worry etched on his face as his child's cries echoed through the halls. The sound made his heart race, fearing that their little one might just stop breathing from the intensity of it all. When the doctor finally came out, Dustin rushed over, barely able to contain his anxiety. "How are they?" he asked, tension clear in his voice.

"Mr. Lynch, try to relax. Your child is okay but needs a bit of observation until the fever breaks," the doctor reassured him.

Relief flooded through Dustin, and he quickly called Emma to set her mind at ease. But her phone just rang and rang, lying silent in a bush near the accident scene, its ringtone swallowed by the noise of passing traffic.

With a heavy sigh, Dustin sank into a chair, his mind replaying the image of Emma's distressed face from earlier that day, twisting his heart with worry.

Then his phone buzzed, Brielle's name lighting up the screen. "How's Emma holding up?" she asked.

"She's home, not doing too well," Dustin replied.

"I'll go check on her," Brielle offered.

Dustin hesitated. "Maybe not now. She doesn't know you that well and might not be up for a chat. Let's give her some space. We need to contact a lawyer, make sure the driver pays up."

filled Brielle. Emma and Peyton had been each other's rock for so long, and now with Peyton gone, what was Emma going to do? Would she regret moving

her solitude. Emma sat by the window, watching the garden until the early hours, Jaime sleeping peacefully in her arms. Dustin returned with Heather, who was finally resting soundly after her fever broke. He entered the room and found Emma

are you up all by yourself? You should

to reality, startled by the emptiness in her

upstairs. The kids are sleeping now, and you should be too. You need

streamed down Emma's cheeks, her grief a quiet scream. Dustin's heart ached, and

to a lawyer about the driver. I also got you some

didn't respond, sinking deeper into her sorrow as Dustin continued. "The driver wasn't drunk, just overworked, which

cracked, a sign of how little she had cared

though her throat felt like it was

ét

ending up there... How can someone just die like that? I should never have come to Beaconsfield. We'd have

the weight of her choices hit her hard, blaming

so