Chapter 55
Dear Henry,
Getting to know you is the best thing that’s happened to me in the last few years. You’ve shown me that even the worst storm passes. You gave me a chance when no one else was willing to. And you gave me hope when I had lost mine. You’re the reason I can dream again.
Kate’s message in the DVD case
Kate
I opened my eyes at a gentle touch on my cheek.
The bedroom was dark, but not completely—soft light filtered through the curtains, casting faint shadows across the room.
Henry was watching me. As our eyes met, his lips curved into a slow, sexy smile meant for me alone.
A delicious shiver ran through me as memories of last night came rushing back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured.
“It’s fine,” I whispered. His breath was warm against my lips, which were so close to his, it was an effort not to close the distance and kiss him. “Did you sleep well?”
“The best sleep of my life,” he said, his voice rough. His hand traced from my cheek to my arm, then down my back. In one fluid motion, he pulled me against him until my bare skin was flush against his. “And the best sex of my life.”
I couldn’t explain how, but I knew he was telling the truth. Henry would never lie to me. And besides, I had been there. I had nothing to compare it to, but even I had felt how special last night had been. “I thought it was incredible too.”
“I was worried I got too rough towards the end,” he admitted, his fingers tracing lazy patterns up and down my spine.
A shiver of pleasure rippled through me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
He pulled me even closer, and I felt him against me—already hard again.
A delicious, searing heat shot through my belly straight to my core.
“No, not at all,” I reassured him. “It was perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” Henry murmured, holding my gaze.
His blue eyes were stunningly clear this morning—open, unguarded.
There was nothing left between us. No walls.
No uncertainty. No secrets. I hadn’t known it could be possible to feel so deeply connected to another person.
And I couldn’t imagine ever sharing this kind of intimacy with anyone but Henry.
“No, we’re perfect,” I replied, and kissed him.
Henry’s hand slid to the back of my neck as he deepened the kiss.
He shifted me effortlessly so I was straddling his lap.
His erection pressed against me, firm and insistent, and a familiar ache bloomed between my legs.
We both knew what we wanted—what we needed.
And once again, we lost ourselves in each other.
After Henry had rolled on a condom, I positioned myself over him.
Being on top felt different from lying beneath him, but no less incredible.
I relished the sense of control, but even more, I savoured the way Henry devoured me with his gaze—hungry, reverent, completely undone.
His hands explored every inch of my body, holding me close as I moved, driving us both closer and closer to release.
When it was over, I collapsed onto his chest, breathless. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as we basked in the warm afterglow. I never wanted to leave his bed, to leave him. But eventually, I untangled myself from his embrace, even though every fibre of me longed to stay.
He frowned. “Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom,” I replied with a smile.
“OK, but be quick. I want a second round.”
So did I. And a third. And a fourth. And a fifth, because I just couldn’t get enough of him.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and headed to the bathroom, only to catch my foot on something. Henry’s jacket, like the rest of our clothes, had been strewn across the floor. I bent down to pick it up—it was far too expensive to be left lying around.
“Don’t—” Henry started, just as the small box of mints he always carried with him slipped from his pocket. It hit the floor, the lid sprung open, and dozens of tiny white tablets scattered across the floor. It took me a couple of heartbeats to realise I wasn’t looking at mints, but pills.
I froze, blinking.
Henry leapt from the bed and was beside me in an instant. He snatched the box from my hand and dropped to his knees, hastily gathering up the pills. I didn’t move. My mind raced to make sense of what I was seeing. Because something wasn’t right.
“I told you not to touch the jacket,” he said. His voice wasn’t angry, but there was an edge to it—agitation, maybe even nervousness. It didn’t make sense.
I crouched down and reached for one of the pills.
The moment Henry realised what I was about to do, he lunged for it, but I was quicker.
His eyes widened, shock flashing across his face.
It didn’t seem like a normal reaction. I examined the small pill in my palm.
It was white and unremarkable—except for the V imprinted on one side.
“What’s this?” I asked, my voice flat.
“Nothing.”
I knew instantly that he was lying. His voice had never sounded like this before—tight with anxiety, laced with the desperate hope that I might believe him. But I didn’t believe him. My stomach clenched.
“Henry, what are these pills?” I demanded, my voice strained.
My chest tightened, as if there wasn’t enough space in my lungs for air.
This scene was all too familiar. Dark memories surged to the surface—memories of the beginning of the end, when my already miserable life had started spiralling into something even worse.
Henry stared at me in silence. He didn’t answer—but he didn’t need to.
His silence spoke louder than words ever could.
If he had pulled out a knife and plunged it into my chest, it wouldn’t have hurt as much as the realisation that was slowly and inexorably dawning on me, despite my heart’s desperate attempts to resist it.
I couldn’t believe—no, I didn’t want to believe—that Henry had betrayed me like this.
Not after everything I had confided in him.
“Did a doctor prescribe them to you?” I asked, clinging to hope as it slipped away.
Henry took a step closer. “Kate—”
I stepped back. Moments ago, we had been as close as two people could be, but now the last thing I wanted was for him to touch me.
I snatched Henry’s old T-shirt from the floor and pulled it over my head.
“Answer me,” I hissed, my voice shaking with fear and fury. “Were those pills prescribed to you?”
He stared at me, his face suddenly pale. “No.”
An icy chill spread through my body. “Then where did you get them?”
“Does it matter?”
It shouldn’t have, but I was grasping at straws, desperately searching for an explanation that wouldn’t break my heart.
I didn’t want to hear that Henry had a drug problem, but how else could I explain this?
He was taking pills—and not only had he not mentioned anything to me; he was actively trying to hide them.
His reaction had made that painfully clear.
Henry swore and ran a desperate hand through his hair, as if he’d rather tear it out than have this conversation.
“They’re from Marko. We met at a party a few months ago, just after I’d taken over managing the hotel.
Everything was a lot. The press was all over The Darlington, and I was overwhelmed.
Everyone wanted something from me, and suddenly, I had to make all these critical decisions about the hotel’s future.
I was stressed and overworked—which was a nightmare, because people expected me to function at peak performance for sixteen hours a day, and every mistake could have cost me my home. ”
His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he continued.
“Marko noticed how burnt out I was and gave me a couple of Vitalyn pills. I didn’t take them straightaway, but eventually, I caved, and .
. . everything got easier. Suddenly, working sixteen-hour days, seven days a week didn’t seem impossible.
My mind was clearer, I was more focussed, less exhausted.
The hours were still long, but pushing through didn’t feel as impossible.
After that, I went back to Marko for more. ”
Henry’s words felt like more than just a punch to the gut—they were a fist driving straight through my entire body. The pain of betrayal radiated through my chest, spreading like poison and freezing the blood in my veins. It hurt. And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.
I.
Couldn’t.
Breathe.
History was repeating itself, and I wasn’t ready.
A desperate sound escaped me, half whimper, half gasp.
Tears blurred my vision. But these weren’t tears of despair, grief, or even betrayal, all emotions that churned inside me.
They were tears of rage. I was boiling inside. How could he have hidden this from me?
“How long have you been taking them?”
Henry had the decency to look ashamed, but that didn’t make his confession any less terrible.
He was addicted to a stimulant. I hadn’t seen it coming, yet I wasn’t surprised.
Suddenly it all made sense—how he had endured the relentless pressure and an outrageous workload that would have destroyed most people long ago.
“Since April,” he admitted.
“Fuck you!”
“Kate—” Henry reached out towards me.
I slapped his hand away. The room blurred before my eyes, my chest aching as if my heart were trying to break free.
Standing in front of me, still naked, Henry bent down to pick up his shirt. It was crumpled, like his face. He threw the shirt on and slipped into his trousers. “Please, let’s talk about this.”
“Talk? Talk!” I snapped. He was acting like I was the irrational one.
Did he not understand what he was doing to me?
He had let me run headfirst into my own personal hell.
“You had weeks to talk. Months! You could have told me the day I told you how drugs killed my mum and ruined my life, for example. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? ”