Chapter Twenty Nine
Twenty-Nine
By the time Priya arrived at Knight Estates, a small crowd was already gathered at the family’s private cemetery.
Brooke stood by a small grave with her father, a hot-pink hat perched perfectly on her head to honor Lady Whiskerbottom’s signature color.
Her father rested his hand on her shoulder.
His hair was neatly combed back, and his dark suit gave him an air of quiet command.
Catching sight of Priya, Brooke motioned her over.
As Priya stepped beside her, Harry Knight turned toward her.
He had always been a distant figure during her childhood visits; now he seemed to assess her with quiet curiosity—the woman who had not only accompanied his son to the estate but was rumored to have been involved with him. After a beat, he gave her a polite nod.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” the officiant began, clearing his throat.
“It was my privilege to serve as Lady Whiskerbottom’s spiritual counselor.
” Chuckles rippled through the crowd, and he met them with an easy smile.
“You may laugh, but she truly had a gift for tuning out the world and finding peace in any situation.”
He painted a picture of feline paradise—eternal sunbeams, catnip fields, and endless napping spots.
Around them, a few reporters quietly snapped photos, capturing the ceremony.
When it was time to lower the casket, Brooke sobbed openly as she dropped in a final offering: Lady Whiskerbottom’s favorite toy.
Harry Knight shifted uncomfortably beside his daughter, uncertain of how to comfort her.
Priya stepped in, gently squeezing Brooke’s hand and guiding her inside for the wake.
The manor greeted them with its familiar grandeur—the sweeping staircase, ornately framed paintings, and marble floors covered with thick, luxurious rugs.
Sebastian welcomed them with his signature calm demeanor, while Harry bid Brooke farewell.
“Have a…good wake,” he said, with a stilted hug. Nodding at Priya, he disappeared down the hall.
Sebastian led everyone into the conservatory—a bright, airy space with sweeping views of the estate’s gardens.
As guests gathered around Brooke, Priya gave them space and wandered to the refreshment table.
She nibbled on a slice of sharp cheddar and had just popped a grape in her mouth when Brooke called for her.
“Do I look okay?” she asked, dabbing her eyes. “I’ve been asked to do a quick interview for a pet magazine—” Before she could finish, her phone rang.
“Ethan!” Brooke’s face lit up as she answered. “It went well. Really? You tuned in?” She paused, listening intently, then glanced at Priya with an apologetic smile.
Priya smiled reassuringly, then motioned that she’d be right back.
She stepped into the hallway, her smile fading the moment she was out of sight.
It didn’t matter that Ethan wasn’t there in person.
Just hearing his voice, even through Brooke’s phone, brought it all back.
She leaned back against the wall, her heart racing in a way she still hadn’t learned how to control.
“Miss, are you all right?”
Priya turned to see Sebastian regarding her with polite concern. “Hi, Sebastian. Sorry—I mean, yes. I’m fine. I just need some fresh air.” Nodding toward the exit, she continued on her way.
As she rounded the corner, her phone pinged with a message from Deepa: Call me when you’re free.
Priya speed-dialed her sister. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Have you been on social media today?” Deepa asked.
“No,” Priya replied with a sinking feeling. “Is something wrong?”
“Far from it! Moksha’s account has blown up. Lady Whiskerbottom’s funeral put us on the map!”
“That’s cool, Dee, but let’s be real. Most of these new followers are probably pet people. Puppa made an exception for Brooke. We had to meet a lot of regulations—separate rooms, equipment, protocols…It wasn’t easy.”
“But everything’s set up now, right?”
“It is. But that doesn’t mean Puppa’s switching gears. You know he’s all about serving the community.”
“True,” Deepa said. “But you know what else he’s all about?”
“Money!” they shouted in unison, dissolving into laughter.
Priya quickly lowered her voice as a guest strolled by, glancing at her. “Listen, Dee, I have to go,” she said. “I’m at Lady Whiskerbottom’s wake.”
As she made her way back to the conservatory, she noticed the library door slightly ajar. Priya paused. It had been strictly off-limits during her visits as a child. Harry Knight’s office was in there—and she’d always wondered what it looked like. Driven by curiosity, she stepped inside.
The scent of old books and worn leather filled the room, giving it a sense of history and quiet dignity.
Towering shelves surrounded her, filled with books, souvenirs, and personal mementos.
Sunlight trickled through tall windows, catching the edges of glass-framed photographs—Ethan’s parents, along with Brooke and Ethan, through different phases of life.
A row of trophies caught Priya’s eye, and she reached for one, reading the inscription engraved on its base.
“Those belonged to Ethan,” a voice broke the stillness.
Startled, Priya turned to see Brooke and Ethan’s father rising from a leather chair. He approached her slowly, his presence filling the room.
“My wife collected them all,” he said, his voice soft. “Rebecca had a sentimental heart, always celebrating the kids’ milestones and achievements.” He took the trophy from Priya and returned it to its place, exactly where his wife had left it.
“Sorry,” Priya said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Not at all.” Harry offered a faint smile. “You’re our guest today.”
The emphasis on today hit Priya hard. The last time she’d visited Knight Estates, it had been with Ethan, and they hadn’t exactly been greeted with open arms.
“It would’ve meant a lot to Ethan if you had welcomed him that day,” Priya blurted out, unable to hold back even though she knew she was treading on dangerous ground.
“It would have meant a lot to me if Ethan hadn’t left the way he did,” Harry said sharply. “If he’d kept his word and gone to college instead of putting himself first.”
Priya refused to back down. “Mr. Knight, your son was running from the guilt he carried after your wife’s death. He blamed himself for his mother’s accident.” She drew a slow breath and met his gaze head-on. “He thought you blamed him too, and it nearly destroyed him.”
Harry’s expression wavered for an instant, an almost imperceptible wince, as though Priya had struck a nerve.
“You were so consumed by your own grief, you didn’t stop to see what it was doing to Ethan,” she continued.
“He followed the path you laid out because he thought he owed it to you. But he got tired of chasing after something you wouldn’t give—your approval, your forgiveness—so he set out to prove himself without it. ”
Harry remained silent, taking in her words.
Priya’s voice softened. “Ethan has tried to reach out to you many times, but each time you turned him away. He wasn’t here just to visit his mother’s grave.
He wanted to see you too. But once again, you rejected him.
I doubt he’ll ever try again. It’s up to you now.
You can either keep things the way they are…
” Her finger traced the dusty surface of the trophy.
“Or start making changes.” She shifted it slightly in a small but deliberate gesture.
Before she left the room, Priya paused and looked over her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think your wife would have wanted you to mend things with your son. She’d be devastated knowing her death drove this wedge between the two of you. She’d want you to show up—for both your kids.”
As Priya walked out, a long, steady breath escaped her lips.
She had sown the seeds and could only hope that they took.
There was no changing the past, but perhaps there was still a chance for Harry and Ethan.
She straightened her shoulders and walked back to the conservatory.
Life with all its messiness kept moving forward.