Inside the tiny fitting room, Briony stood frozen, her arms full of lacy lingerie she had no intention of trying on.

The space was barely three feet wide-cramped even for one person. But, as if that weren't enough, this particular fitting room opened up to a narrow staircase leading to a loft above a makeshift storage attic.

She heard footsteps approaching.

Sensing something, Briony looked up.

A figure dressed in black appeared in the doorway.

It was a man-black baseball cap pulled low, half his face hidden behind a mask, only his eyes visible: narrow, deep-set, and impossible to read.

He was tall. With two long strides, he descended the twisting wooden steps from the attic and stood before her.

The moment he appeared, Briony understood what Mary had been planning all along.

She stared at the man in front of her, her thoughts scattered, as if time itself had stopped.

still

knew the world still believed Stewart was dead-he

in

Hoffman told him

locked eyes in a heavy silence,

it was Stewart who gave in

weary sigh, and reached up to remove his

and familiar, nothing like the scarred,

ever existed during that first interview, and since then, it had always been Stewart shadowing

Stewart pulled off the mask, his

He was scared, too.

see him. Afraid she'd push him

she seemed so calm now. Even as he revealed himself, she didn't so much as

was rough, barely more than a whisper, trembling with emotion. He felt a painful tightness in his chest,

wanted to say, and yet, he

started suspecting Blair's real identity. When she saw Stewart, disguised as Blair, caring for

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