Chapter 40
No way was that kiss real! Henry just staged it to get back at Olivia! #HenryDarlington #OliviaAsterdam #Asterdarling
Online comment by MeltXGlow
Henry
The photos of Kate and I spread fast. It wasn’t the first time the press had reported on my love life, but it was the first time that the topic was so controversial.
People had a lot to say about the fact that Kate worked for The Darlington and, by extension, for me.
Some applauded Kate and saw our relationship as a modern fairy tale, while others were convinced she was using me for my money.
Yet others argued I was abusing my power, which was ridiculous.
Kate hadn’t just stolen my phone—she had taken my heart.
So it didn’t matter how much more power, success, and money I had, because Kate already possessed the most valuable part of me.
I was scrolling through online articles when there was a knock at my door. Before I could respond, the door opened. It was no great surprise when my mum stepped into my office—I had expected her to show up much earlier.
I closed my laptop. “Hey, Mum,” I said, and gestured at the sofa. “Sit down.”
She ignored my invitation and sat on a chair at my desk, which told me all I needed to know. She smoothed her red dress. It was embroidered with silver thread, which gave it a Christmassy feel, but there was nothing festive about her expression.
“We have to talk.”
“I don’t have time.” It wasn’t a lie, but more importantly, I didn’t want to talk to her.
I already knew what she had come to say—she didn’t like Kate.
She had already warned me to stay away from her after the first photos had been posted.
But her words had fallen on deaf ears then, and they would do so again today.
My mum fixed me with a glare. “Make time.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Then listen to me,” she demanded.
I stopped protesting. The quicker she got to the point, the sooner I could be rid of her and finish my work, so I could get back to Kate. I looked at my mum expectantly, drumming my fingers against the desk with impatience.
“You’re meeting Daphne Walsh on Tuesday at 6 p.m.”
“Mr. Walsh’s daughter?” I asked with surprise.
“Yes.”
“What for?”
My mum tutted, as if I was being deliberately obtuse. “To have dinner with her, of course. I’ve arranged a date for you. Miraculously, she’s still interested in you.”
Was she kidding? “No way.”
My mum ignored me and kept talking. “Daphne looks absolutely striking with her new nose. Like a young Kate Moss, but without the drug problem and just as slim. And she has a spotless reputation. You’ll like her.”
“I don’t want to go on a date with Daphne. Kate and I . . .”
“Forget Kate,” my mum interrupted, eyeing me with pursed lips, as if she were taking stock of me.
Judging by the faint wrinkle of her nose, she didn’t like what she saw, though I couldn’t tell if it was the dark circles under my eyes or the colour of my suit that bothered her.
Not that I cared. “Daphne is a much better match for you.”
“How would you know that? You don’t even know Kate.”
“No, but I know you, and what you have with her isn’t going to last. She’s exciting, an adventure. I get that—but every adventure comes to an end. Everything new eventually becomes old and loses its charm. And once that charm fades, you’ll see that there’s nothing connecting you.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
My mum sighed theatrically, as if my lack of reason was giving her a headache. “Henry, please try to be sensible. You two don’t stand a chance. Anyone can see that Kate doesn’t belong here. It’s pretty selfish of you to pull her into a world that doesn’t have space for her.”
“I’ll make space for her.”
“You will, maybe, but others won’t,” my mum said, her chin raised—proof that she was one of those others.
“You have no idea how many people talked to me at the ball about the two of you. Not to mention the countless phone calls I’ve already received today about the photos.
Kate is a bad influence on you. She would be on anyone. ”
“And a rapist is a good influence?”
My mum stared at me, affronted. I had never dared use the R-word in her presence, not wanting to hurt her, especially since I knew how much my dad’s infidelities had wounded her. But I’d had enough of tiptoeing around the issue while everyone felt entitled to openly judge Kate.
“If you’re talking about your father: That hasn’t been proven.”
I scoffed. “I was there when you first heard about the allegations. You weren’t surprised or shocked. You knew immediately that it was true. Everyone knows it’s true, and yet somehow, that’s OK—something you and your friends can accept. But Kate not being born into money? That’s unacceptable?”
“The situation with your dad is completely different.”
“You’re right. Dad committed a horrendous crime. Kate, on the other hand, has done nothing wrong. She’s only guilty of having had less luck in her life, whereas your husband made a conscious decision to behave like scum.”
My mother pressed her lips together furiously. She knew I was right. My dad might have been money-rich, but she couldn’t deny that he was poor in other things—decency, honesty, and moral standards.
“Why do you put up with it?” My mum wasn’t perfect, and she had her prejudices, but unlike my dad, she wasn’t a bad person. “You’re a smart, beautiful woman, Mum. Any man would be lucky to have you, but you stay with the one who deserves you the least.”
For a brief moment, I dared to hope I was getting through to her.
Her expression softened, and in it, I could see the pain she had to endure because of my dad.
But in a flash, her face hardened again.
She had perfected the act. “My relationship with your father isn’t up for discussion,” she said sharply.
“And you can’t compare him to Kate. He’s an integral part of this society.
Not just that, but he and his family have helped build it up.
Kate, on the other hand, is an outsider.
Different rules apply to her, whether you like it or not. ”
“I’m not giving Kate up.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Maybe I am, but it’s my mistake, so stay out of it.”
My mum shook her head. “I will not. Your mistake reflects on me, your father, and the hotel. You can’t truly believe that people will just accept you dating someone like Kate. It doesn’t work like that.”
Silence descended on the room.
I was certain that if we were quiet enough and listened closely, we’d both be able to hear the outraged pounding of my heart. I hated the double standards. I was livid—not at my mum, but at what she represented in this moment.
“What do you expect me to do?” I heard myself ask.
“I expect you to take responsibility.”
My patience snapped. “Fuck! All I’ve been doing for months is taking responsibility!
” I hissed, unable to keep my cool any longer.
“Responsibility for this family. For the hotel. For all the shit Dad got us into that no one here is willing to talk about.” My hands shook with rage.
“While Dad is off playing golf with his mates, drinking whisky, and probably screwing Vivian behind your back, I’ve been busting a gut trying to ensure that the hotel survives next year.
I’m racking up endless overtime to organise a gala that might be a flop—one wealthy donor after another is pulling out because they’re afraid of being seen on the red carpet.
Not because of Kate, but because of Dad.
The rest of the world isn’t blind, and people see him for what he is: a fucking rapist who belongs in prison.
I haven’t slept more than four hours a night in weeks.
I have no free time, and I don’t have any fun.
I haven’t seen my friends in forever, because my entire crappy life revolves around saving this hotel.
My home. Something I get neither thanks nor recognition for from you or Dad.
Instead, the only thing you do is criticise the one person who makes me happy. ”
My mum stared at me with wide eyes. I had never given her a piece of my mind like this before.
The blood pounded in my ears, and a relentless headache pulsed behind my temples.
I had no patience left for her imagined social rules or her elitist pretensions.
All I wanted was to hold Kate in my arms and get my work done so that the hotel stood a chance of survival.
And once we got over the worst of it, I would find a way to get rid of my dad, making sure he never had a say in The Darlington again.
I took a deep breath. “You should go.”
My mum was smart enough to know that arguing was pointless. She got up, smoothed down her skirt, and turned away without a word.
Her fingers were already on the door handle when she turned back to me.
Her expression was hard to read—a mix of regret, sadness and wounded pride.
“You say you want to save the hotel, but you won’t be able to do that with Kate by your side.
You don’t have to like the rules of our society, but you still have to stick to them.
All of us do. Maybe Kate makes you happy right now, but what will be left of that happiness if you lose your home because of her? ”