Chapter 48
Oh my god! Have you seen the interview yet? How are you? More importantly, how’s Kate? He’s such an arsehole!
Message from Olivia to Henry
Kate
My head buzzed as if an entire swarm of bees had taken up residence in it.
What had I been thinking, drinking so much?
The beer, the cocktail, the shots—they’d felt like harmless fun last night.
Today, though, the effect of the alcohol was anything but harmless—it was painful.
Groaning, I turned in the big bed. The sheets smelled of Henry, but he was no longer there.
I usually woke up when he did, but the alcohol seemed to have knocked me out completely. I wondered if Grace also felt this bad.
I opened my eyes, grateful for the blinds that blocked out the daylight, and scanned Henry’s bedroom.
I spotted my phone on the bedside table, next to a bottle of water and a small box with a Post-it note attached.
I switched on the lamp, enraging the swarm of bees in my head.
Peeling the Post-it note off the box, I saw that it was a packet of painkillers.
The note was from Henry. After several attempts, I finally managed to decipher the scrawl of his barely legible handwriting.
Good morning, angel.
I’m sorry I had to go to the office. The tablets should help with the headaches. And drink the water (the whole bottle!!).
Henry
PS: I like you the most too.
PPS: I’m looking forward to kissing you all over.
I felt suddenly hot. A memory of the previous night washed over me—how I had gone to Henry’s office and practically ordered him to take me to bed. He had looked after me, and I’d demanded he explore my body with his lips before confessing how much I liked him.
I took two tablets from the packet and drank the entire bottle of water, just as Henry had instructed.
I soon felt better, and the swarm of bees in my head gradually disappeared.
My mind clearer, I reached for my phone to thank him, only to find the battery dead—it must have run out overnight.
I stayed in bed a little longer before forcing myself to get up and find my clothes.
They smelled unpleasantly of the pub, but I slipped them on anyway.
I left Henry’s apartment and hurried to the lift, hoping to avoid encountering anyone, but my plan was foiled—I ran straight into Ethan.
His bloodshot eyes, crumpled clothes, and the vivid love-bite on his neck made me think he was just getting home from a long night of partying.
His eyes met mine, and his lips twisted into a grim smile.
“Hey,” I said, my voice still rough.
Ethan’s eyes flashed. “Hey, Kate.”
There was something strange about the way he said my name, as if there were a hidden meaning I was supposed to catch.
Maybe I was imagining it. Or maybe he was still drunk and it was an effort to speak, just as it had been for me the night before.
A little unsettled by our odd encounter, I sidestepped him and headed for the lifts.
When the lift stopped at the third floor and a room attendant stepped in, I realised something wasn’t quite right. Her eyes widened at the sight of me, and she muttered a quick, “Good morning,” avoiding my gaze as the lift descended.
With an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach—one that had nothing to do with last night’s alcohol—I stepped out at the first floor. In the corridor, I passed two guests who reacted to me just as strangely, eyes widening before they quickly looked away, as if the sight of me was unbearable.
“Is that her?” the woman asked as they passed.
“I think so,” the man replied.
The hairs on my arms stood on end. What was going on?
I quickened my pace, hurrying to the safety of my room.
I was determined to figure out what was happening.
Once inside, I rushed to the bedside table and plugged in my phone.
Tapping my foot impatiently, I waited for it to charge enough to turn on.
After what felt like an eternity, the display lit up.
I had several missed calls and messages from Grace.
Grace:
Oh my god. Have you seen it yet?
Grace:
Is it true what he’s saying?
Grace:
Kate, are you there?
Grace:
Call me!!!
Grace:
How are you doing?
Grace:
Kate???
My heart did a somersault. What was Grace talking about?
Me:
What’s happened?
Grace:
Finally! Have you seen it?
Me:
What?
Grace sent me a link—a dreaded INsider URL.
My stomach clenched. It could only mean that yet another sensational headline about Henry was making the rounds.
I clicked on the link, but instead of an article, a video loaded.
I froze, and an icy chill spread through me.
It wasn’t about Henry—it was about me. The thumbnail alone confirmed I was about to see something terrible: It showed the one person I had hoped never to see again—Randell Barker. The headline read,
The Truth About Henry Darlington’s New Girlfriend!
“No, no, no, no . . .” I murmured. This couldn’t be happening. I leapt from my bed, too panicked to sit still. As I paced the room, I tried to summon the courage to play the video. I didn’t want to hear whatever “truth” Randell had told about me, but I had to know. There was no way around it.
I took a deep breath and pressed play.
“Hello, Randell. It’s great to have you here with us today,” William Hunt said.
“It’s good to be here,” Randell replied.
The two men sat opposite each other on a studio set.
The makeup team had done a remarkable job on Randell—he looked considerably less greasy and, as a result, healthier than usual.
His white shirt lent him an air of trustworthiness.
When he smiled at the camera, though, I saw that they hadn’t been able to fix his teeth—they were crooked, and yellowed from years of heavy smoking.
“Would you like to briefly introduce yourself to our audience?” William asked with a greedy keenness.
“I’m Randell Barker. Forty and single.”
William chuckled. “I’m sure the ladies will appreciate that bit of information, but you’re not here to make new friends, are you?”
“No, I’m here to talk about Kaitlynn Hamilton. The young woman who’s been seen a lot with Henry Darlington recently. There are a few things about Kate that I think people should know.”
I couldn’t take any more. I stopped the video and took a deep breath. My lungs felt tight, as if something were sitting on my chest. This couldn’t be happening. How the hell had Randell made it into William Hunt’s studio?
The answer was as obvious as it was simple: money.
Henry and I hadn’t given him any, so now he was trying to profit off me in another way—by talking to the press.
Bastard. I wanted nothing more than to throw my phone against the wall, but the interview was still out there, whether I watched it or not.
It was better to know exactly what I was up against.
I pressed play again.
“Kaitlynn Hamilton. Finally! A name to the face!” said William, and photos of me and Henry appeared on the screen behind the two men—and not just those from McDonald’s and the masked ball.
There were new ones. One showed me at the pub with Grace and Rose, and the other had been taken outside Better Days.
With my damp hair, sodden clothes, and mud-streaked jeans, I looked terrible—completely dishevelled and unkempt.
“So,” William began, “who is this Kate who has managed to wrap Henry Darlington around her little finger?”
“Above all else, she’s a dirty whore,” Randell said.
His last word had been bleeped out, but I had no trouble filling in the gap. My entire body was gripped by an icy chill. I desperately wanted to stop the video again, but I forced myself to be strong and listen to what else Randell had to say about me.
William gave an exaggerated laugh, as if the answer had taken him by surprise. “What?”
Randell grinned arrogantly, revelling in the attention. “You heard me right, William. Kate is a *****. She ***** men for money. At least, that’s what she did before Henry became her sugar daddy.”
“Unbelievable,” William said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He was clearly thrilled to have landed such a sensational interview.
Randell nodded. “You’re right, it’s unbelievable.
And that’s just the beginning. Kate’s mother and I were together for a while.
She didn’t have enough money to support herself and Kate, so I stepped in and let them both live with me.
Becca died of an overdose a year ago. I kept trying to help her get sober, but she wasn’t interested. ”
A burning rage coursed through me. Randell wasn’t just an asshole; he was a liar!
“Is Kate an addict too?” William probed.
Randell sighed, as if my well-being actually mattered to him.
“I don’t know, to be honest. I haven’t spoken to her for a long time, but it’s entirely possible.
After her mother’s death, she totally lost it.
She moved out, even though she had no money and no job.
She spent the last year living on the streets.
I already told you how she got by.” Randell made an obscene gesture to clarify.
“Wow.” William exhaled heavily. “You just made some pretty shocking claims. So Henry Darlington is involved with a homeless prostitute who’s after his money. Imagine that. How do you think they met?”
Randell raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Right, right,” William replied, his tone heavy with feigned regret. “What else should people know about Kate?”
Randell pretended to think for a moment.
He probably had a list in his trouser pocket, itemising the terrible things he wanted to say about me.
“Kate dropped out of school when she was sixteen and started stealing. She was arrested multiple times, but nothing ever came of it. But apparently, theft eventually stopped being lucrative enough for her.”
“So Kate isn’t just a hooker—she’s also a thief?”
“Yes. That girl is nothing but trouble.”
William nodded. “Good to know. Thank you for your insights, Randell.”
Randell smirked smugly. “You’re welcome, William. I thought it was important for people to hear that, so they know what kind of person Kate Hamilton really is—a kleptomaniac ***** who should be handled with caution. Hide your money and your men.”
The video stopped.
The interview was over.
I was done for.