Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
HARLOW
“What on earth is wrong with you, Harlow? You’ve been jumpy all week!” my mother exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.
“Nothing is wrong, I’m just tired, that’s all,” I reply, closing the lid to my laptop and reaching for my phone resting on the table between us. After packing up and shipping the paintings earlier this week, Sterling left for London this morning, and I’m a nervous wreck. The private viewing of Sterling’s art has already commenced, and I’m terrified of what’s going to happen.
My mother continues to speak, but I barely register her words as I glance at the last message Sterling sent me just over an hour ago.
Everything is going to be okay. I’ll call you as soon as it’s over.
“Harlow, are you listening to me?! We have company arriving very soon!”
“Company? What do you mean we have company?” I ask, my head snapping up.
“Robert has invited Councillor Hoxton and his wife Elodie to dinner–”
“No!” I exclaim, pushing up from my chair as fear cascades down my spine.
“What do you mean, no ?” My mother looks at me aghast. I’ve been so distracted that I hadn’t even noticed that she’s dressed up to receive guests.
“I… I’m…” I stammer, struggling to come up with a reasonable explanation for my reaction.
I know I need to calm down, but how can I when Councillor Hoxton is on his way here, even though he’s supposed to be in London for the viewing? Panic floods my mind as anxiety tightens in my stomach. Even if I manage to reach Sterling, he’s over two hours away. What am I supposed to do?
“Harlow!” My mother yells, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. I blink rapidly, trying to regain control and think clearly.
“Hello? Where are you both?” I hear Robert call from down the hall.
“I’m not feeling well,” I snap, breaking free from my mother’s grip. “I’m going to my room to lie down. Have a nice evening.”
“Absolutely not. You will attend this dinner. It’s incredibly rude not to,” my mother insists, but I ignore her and rush toward the hallway, colliding straight into Robert’s chest.
“Harlow, are you okay?” he asks me, his hands flying out to grasp my shoulders as he steadies me. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Stop coddling her, Robert. She’s not feeling well, apparently , and is refusing to have dinner with us and our guests,” my mother says, joining us both.
My gaze lifts to Roberts, his eyes searching mine. A frown creases his forehead. “You’re unwell?”
“Yes, I’m suddenly feeling a little lightheaded,” I whisper, taking a step back as his hands fall from my shoulders. It’s not a complete lie, I do feel lightheaded just not for the reason he might think.
“Robert, is everything okay?” a familiar voice asks.
Behind Robert, Councillor Hoxton appears, his snakelike gaze assessing me. My skin crawls with unease and I feel all the colour draining from my face. Frozen in place, it’s all I can do not to throw up.
“Oh, everything’s fine, John. Just a bout of dizziness, Harlow was just heading to her room to lie down for a bit,” Robert explains smoothly, stepping to one side as he gives me room to pass.
“There must be something in the water. Elodie has been feeling under the weather too. She wasn’t able to make it this evening after all.”
“Oh no, that’s terrible, poor Elodie,” my mother states, though there’s a distinct undertone of annoyance that is hard to miss.
“Indeed, it is a shame,” Robert adds, throwing a look at my mother. Seems like I’m not the only one who can sense her insincerity.
“I think I should go for a walk outside, get some fresh air,” I interject quickly.
Robert studies me for a moment, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features. He’s not stupid, he knows something is going on, but I’m not about to stick around long enough for him to press the matter. I need to get hold of Sterling.
“Alright, take a walk. Perhaps when you return you can pop into the dining hall and let us know that you’re okay?” Robert asks, giving me a gentle smile.
“Sure,” I murmur before striding down the hallway in the opposite direction. With every step I can feel Councillor Hoxton’s gaze boring into my skin, and it’s all I can do not to break into a run.
Once outside, I make my way toward Sterling’s studio. It isn’t until I step inside and lock the door behind me that I finally allow myself to take a shaky breath. With trembling hands, I pull out my phone and dial Sterling’s number, but after a few rings, it goes to voicemail.
“Sterling, it’s me. Councillor Hoxton is here . I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. Please call back,” I say, before hanging up and clutching the phone to my chest.
I leave it a few more minutes before trying again, but once again it goes to voicemail after a few rings. Frustrated and anxious, I send Sterling a text as well.
For the next half an hour I pace back and forth in Sterling’s studio, my mind racing with all the possible scenarios that could unfold with Councillor Hoxton’s unexpected appearance. Is this just more mind games? Has he figured out that we’re on to him? What if he’s here tonight to finally follow through on his threats?
“This can’t be happening,” I cry, trembling so violently that I have to take a seat on Sterling’s threadbare couch.
Surely Councillor Hoxton wouldn’t act on his threats with my mother and Robert both here? It’s not as if he can really hurt me while they’re around, can he?
Wait..!
What if we were wrong and he isn’t my stalker? What then?
Try as I might, I can’t dampen the sense of dread gnawing at me, and just when I’m about to give in to a full-blown panic attack, my phone rings. It’s Sterling.
“Oh, thank God,” I say, snatching it up and pressing it to my ear.
“I got your message. I’m on my way, Harlow. Where are you now?” he asks me, his voice tight with worry.
“I’m at your studio,” I reply, relief flooding through me at the sound of his voice.
“Good. Have you locked the door?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Okay, stay where you are. Do not leave the studio . You’ll be safe there. I’m coming as quickly as I can.”
“I won’t. Sterling what does this mean? If he hasn’t bought the paintings then could we have the wrong person?”
“All the paintings have been bought,” he replies tensely.
“By who?”
“A few from some of the guests tonight, but most from an undisclosed buyer. It has to be Hoxton. It was stupid of me to think he’d actually attend the viewing. This is my fault, Harlow. I’ve forced his hand and put you in danger. Fuck!” he shouts, his fear amplifying my own.
Forcing myself to calm down, I say, “Just get here safely. I’ll wait until you arrive.”
“I love you,” he replies.
“I love you too.”
Dropping the phone onto the couch, I grab a thick blanket that’s draped over the arm of the sofa and wrap it around my shoulders, trying to ward off the chill that has settled deep into my bones. Minutes tick by agonisingly slowly as I stare blankly at the wall, waiting for Sterling to arrive. After an hour and a half has passed, my eyelids begin to droop, weighed down by my sheer exhaustion, but just as I feel myself slipping into an uneasy slumber, the sound of a key twisting in the lock jolts me awake.
“Sterling?!” I say, sitting bolt upright.
The door creaks open, an icy blast of air cutting through the studio as a figure stands in the doorway. But it’s not Sterling.
It’s Robert.
“Robert? What are you doing here?” I ask, as he steps into the studio, a look of relief on his face.
“You didn’t return, and when your mother said you weren’t in your room she insisted I go and find you. I must admit I had a moment's regret buying such a huge mansion, so many rooms to get lost in. I might’ve known you’d be here,” he replies, stepping into the studio and shutting the door behind him.
I watch him as he turns his back to me, and locks the door. It takes me a moment to register what he’s doing, but when I do, all the blood drains from my body.
“Robert, unlock the door,” I say, trying to hide the sudden tremor in my voice as Robert turns to face me, a sinister grin spreading across his face.
Seconds slip past slowly as realisation dawns.
No. Please, no.
“Oh, Harlow, you really didn't think you could escape me, did you? It was very remiss of Sterling to think that I didn’t have a key to his studio,” he sneers, the concern in his eyes evaporating as he advances towards me with slow, deliberate steps.
“W-what are you talking about?” I ask, panic surging through me as I stand, the tremble in my voice giving away my fear.
Robert's eyes gleam with malice as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, his finger swiping over the screen before he flips it around to face me. “Does this seem familiar?” he asks.
My gaze drops to the photograph that Sterling sent of the painting he did of me. The one we thought we’d sent to Councillor Hoxton. Bile burns that back of my throat as I realise the true extent of the danger I'm in.
“You’re my?—”
“You've been playing a dangerous game, Harlow,” Robert interjects, circling around me like a predator closing in on its prey. “Do you think I’m not aware of how you’ve been carrying on with my son right under my nose? Do you think that I can allow that to continue?”
“ You’ve been sending me the messages?” I manage to choke out.
“Yes, though the shock on your face tells me that you didn’t figure that out until just now. It’s clear to me now that you thought it was John going by how you reacted to his presence this evening.” His smile widens, revealing a malevolent side that Sterling had warned me about on so many occasions. “Whilst Hoxton is a deviant bastard, it wasn’t him.”
“You’re sick!” I exclaim, unable to help myself.
“I must admit it’s been the most fun I’ve had in years. Though I had hoped you’d think it was Sterling sending the messages, and that you’d sever your relationship with him once and for all. That was a fatal error in judgement on my part,” he retorts.
“I don’t understand. You sent me that first message way before you married Mom, before Sterling and I were officially introduced at your wedding. You’re not making any sense. None of this is making sense.”
“You really were so enamoured with him that you didn’t even notice me sitting at the bar that night, huh?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he regards me.
I blink at him, my thoughts whirling, and then I remember the lone man at the bar.
No! No way.
“That was you? ”
“Indeed.”
“How did you even know I’d be there that night?”
“When I decided to commit to a relationship with your mother, I made it my business to know everything about her, and by extension you. I had some checks done, and it’s amazing what you can find out if you know the right people. I was made aware of your account on Instagram, so I asked my employee to do a little more digging. That led me to find out about your secret identity, and it wasn’t all that hard to find out where you were singing next given my extensive contacts and access to some rather talented hackers. Intrigued, I wanted to hear you sing in person, so I made a quick diversion to the bar before heading over to see your mother at the hotel. You can imagine my surprise when I saw Sterling stumble into the club and leave with you a few minutes later,” he adds, narrowing his eyes at me. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where you were going off together, and so I had to act.”
“How could you?” I hiss, utterly sick to my stomach.
“Very easily, Harlow. I am a man used to getting what he wants, and I do not want you having a relationship with my son!”
“Please, Robert, I never meant to come between you and Sterling. We love each other,” I plead, desperation seeping into my voice.
Robert’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing as he looms closer. “Love each other? You think what you have is love? It’s nothing but a pathetic infatuation, and it ends now.”
“We didn’t mean for this to happen. We met before you made anything official with my mom. I didn’t even know Sterling was your son until the night before your wedding. I know that this is unusual,” I say, trying to appeal to his better nature, hoping that there’s a part of him that is decent.
“Yet you’ve been sneaking around with each other ever since!” he shouts.
“If you didn’t want us to be together then why force Sterling to spend time with me under the guise of wanting a happy family? Why not just confront us both?”
“Because I believed once you’d found out about his illness, you’d see how fucked-up he is and end the relationship yourself just like everyone else in his life has. That boy is incapable of having any real relationships. He’s an embarrassment.”
“He has friends!” I argue, anger mixing with fear. “He’s a good man. He’s loyal, brave, and talented. How dare you say such things. How dare you treat him the way you have!”
He waves his hand in the air dismissively. “They’re acquaintances at best, and only tolerate him because of my relationship with their fathers.”
“You’re wrong. They care about him. I care about him.”
“I really don’t understand what you see in him. He’s pathetic, nothing but a stain on this family name.”
“And you’re a coldhearted bastard!” I retort, my fist curling at my sides.
“I am who I am. Your mother doesn’t seem to mind,” he adds with a shrug.
“She doesn’t know the real you, clearly. She’ll be horrified when she finds out about what you’ve done, and has seen all the messages you’ve sent to me. She’ll divorce you.”
“You and I both know that’s not true. Your mother doesn’t care about you, all she cares about is herself. But I care about you, Harlow. I’ve done this all for you. Why can’t you see that?”
“Sending me threatening messages is caring about me? Telling me that you want to force yourself on me, that you wonder if I’d scream if you did? How does that show you care about me?!”
“Like I said, I wanted you to believe it was Sterling, he does have a rather obsessive nature.”
“You’re lying. There’s something you’re not saying. None of this is making any sense. Maybe at first that was your intention. But if you’ve known about us all along, have suspected that we’d grown close, why keep sending them?”
He chuckles then, and the sound is manic. I take another step back praying that Sterling arrives soon. I just need to keep him talking long enough until he arrives.
“Well, admittedly that’s because I’m a sick fuck, Harlow,” he replies, laughing at himself as though what he’s just said should be amusing and not down right scary. “Besides you were mine first, until he stole you from me.”
“What do you mean, I was yours first?” I ask, utterly thrown now by where this conversation is heading. My head is spinning from everything he’s said as I try to grasp the implication of his words. Robert’s eyes gleam with a twisted kind of satisfaction as I take another step away from him.
“Don’t you recall the night we met in Hollywood?”
“The night you met my mother, you mean?” I reply.
“Yes, her too, but it wasn’t just Melody that I wanted. It was you.”
“Me?” I whisper.
“You are a remarkable young lady, Harlow, or should I say my sweet songbird , and I’m a hot-blooded male. When I heard you sing that night at Smokey Joe’s , I can admit that I was enthralled, turned on even. So I wrote those messages in part to make you think it was Sterling, but once I realised it wasn’t working, I decided that I rather enjoyed the whole thing.”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “You’re sick!”
“So you’ve said,” he replies, taking another step towards me. “But now I’d like to experience what my son apparently has. I’m a jealous man, Harlow. I don’t like what belongs to me being used by someone else.”
“Oh my God. You’re here to rape me? Do you think I won’t fight you?”
“I truly hope you do. It’s getting rather boring rutting into your mother. For all her flirtation she’s a sack of potatoes in bed.”
“And then what? You expect me to keep quiet, to not call the police and get your sorry ass thrown in jail? You’re insane!”
“That would be incredibly difficult for you to do when you’re dead.”
“Dead?” I whisper out, my thundering heart stilling with abject terror.
“You’ve forced my hand. This could’ve gone so differently. I could’ve made you happy. You give me no choice.”
“You won’t get away with this!”
Robert throws his head back and laughs maniacally, and I frantically look around the room for anything I can use to protect myself with. My gaze lands on a metal palette knife that Sterling sometimes uses to press the oil paint onto canvas. It’s small but sharp, and it’s about the only thing I could use to try and protect myself with. I edge closer to it.
“What do you intend to do with my body?” I ask, trying to distract Robert enough so that I can grab the palette knife. “Do you honestly think you can get away with this?”
Robert sighs. “I’m a billionaire, Harlow. Money can buy an awful lot of things, including men who will cover up this little… indiscretion,” he says, his creepy smiles so unhinged that my teeth begin to chatter.
Despite my fear, I clench my hands into fists, rage filling me now. "You truly think you can just buy your way out of this? That you won’t get caught? That someone won’t suspect.” My voice trembles, but I fight against the fear gripping my heart.
Robert's smirk falters for a moment, as if he's genuinely considering my words. “You truly have no idea how dark the world is. It’s rather sweet, your innocence. Shame I’m going to have to snuff it out.” He takes another step towards me, and I know I have to act quickly.
With a burst of adrenaline, I launch myself at the table, my fingers wrapping around the palette knife as I snatch it up. Twisting on my feet I lunge at Robert, slicing his cheek with the sharpened edge. He reaches for his face, shock reflected in his eyes before they turn steely.
“You surprise me, Harlow. I’m going to enjoy this,” he says, his eyes flashing with a predatory gleam as he lunges at me, but I dodge his grasp and swing the palette knife at his head.
He catches it with his hand, leaving a shallow wound on his palm. I seize the opportunity to kick him in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards, coughing and spluttering. Then I run, focussing only on my escape as I drop the palette knife and reach inside my pocket for the key.
Throwing one last look over my shoulder to make sure Robert is still on the floor, I lift the key to the lock, my hand shaking so much that it takes me three attempts to get it inside. Finally the lock gives way, and right at the same moment, as my hand wraps around the handle, Robert’s arm wraps around my throat.
A blood curdling scream parts my lips as his other arm wraps around my waist and he lifts me off my feet.
“Got you,” he snarls into my ear as he drags me kicking and screaming across the room. With one rough shove, he chucks me to the floor, then clambers over me, straddling my thighs. I buck my hips and claw at his face, fighting with every last ounce of energy I have.
“Keep fighting, sweet songbird,” he goads before lifting his hand and slapping me so hard that my head snaps to the side, black spots blurring my vision.
“This is going to be so much fun–”
“MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!”
One moment I’m struggling to stay awake, and the next Sterling has his arm wrapped around Robert's neck, lifting him off of me and pulling him away.
"I'll kill you!" Sterling yells, squeezing tighter as Robert desperately tries to break free, his face turning a deep shade of purple.
“Sterling!” I whisper, watching in horror as Sterling's eyes fill with unbridled fury and he tightens his grip around Robert's neck.
Then, as though in slow motion, I see Robert let go of Sterling's arm and elbow him forcefully in the stomach, causing Sterling to momentarily loosen his hold. Seizing this opportunity, Robert quickly headbutts Sterling, the back of his head meeting Sterling's nose with a sickening crunch. The sound echoes through the room, and Sterling stumbles back, blood pouring from his broken nose. Robert turns towards him.
"You little piece of shit," he rasps out between gasps for air. “I should’ve had you locked up in an institute when you were a kid.”
“Fuck you,” Sterling snarls, swiping at the blood that’s trickling over his lips and chin. “This ends right now.”
“I was saving this for Harlow, but I guess I’ll use it on you first,” Robert sneers, and from my position on the floor I can see him reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a flip knife that he snaps open with a flick of his wrist.
“Sterling, look out!” I scream, scrambling to my feet as Robert lunges towards Sterling.
I don’t think. I act.
With adrenaline surging through my veins, I rush towards Robert, shoving him as hard as I can, my palms slamming into him with enough force that it sends him sprawling towards the table. I’d only meant to buy Sterling some time, but when I hear the sound of his skull meeting the sharp corner of the table, I know that I’ve done far more than that.
Robert’s body slumps to the floor, his sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling as blood pools around his head, crimson spreading across the floor.
He’s dead .
I'm not even aware of my own screaming until Sterling pulls me into his warm embrace, muffling the sound against his chest.