Chapter 26 Just Don’t Lie to Me
Just Don’t Lie to Me
The park bench sat beneath a canopy of old oak trees, tucked away from the main walking paths where joggers and dog walkers might overhear.
Harper was already there when Sebastian appeared, carrying two iced coffees in a cardboard tray.
His usual tailored appearance had been replaced with something deliberately anonymous—a dark hoodie, faded jeans, and the kind of careful anonymity that made him look less like a viscount and more like someone trying very hard not to be recognized.
Harper watched him approach, two iced coffees in hand. He’d texted her an hour ago with a cryptic “Need to talk. Bringing caffeine as peace offering,” and the unusual formality had put her on edge.
“You look like you’re attending your own funeral,” she said as he sat down, accepting the coffee he offered. Her long blonde hair was down today, framing her face—a rare departure from her usual tightly pulled-back bun that gave her a softer, less guarded look.
“I was going for a vibe,” he replied. “Melancholy minimalist. Or quiet panic,” he replied. “Whichever sounds more like a man about to emotionally unravel.”
Harper gave a thin smile. “Well, you’re nailing it.” She studied his face, noting the genuine worry there. “You said we needed to talk. What’s the emergency?”
Sebastian stared out at the empty path ahead. “I talked to Charles.”
Harper’s body went still, though her expression remained neutral.
“He wasn’t pleased about the meme,” Sebastian continued, his voice tight. “Or about me helping Alexander.”
“That doesn’t sound like the emergency you made this out to be.”
Sebastian turned to look at her directly. “I told him to go to hell. Then I hung up.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Wow. That’s… bold.”
“I know. I lost it. He said when the truth comes out, everyone will drop me. Then he brought up my mother.”
Harper’s expression hardened. “Of course he did.”
“I just couldn’t let him use her memory like that. Not again.” He exhaled. “But now, Charles is going to hit back. Hard. He’ll paint me as a liar, a manipulator. And he’ll drag anyone he can down with me.”
“So you brought me iced coffee to, what, warn me?”
“Yes, partly. I brought you iced coffee because I care about the investigation,” he said, meeting her gaze directly. “And because you prefer it over hot coffee like a psychopath.”
Harper narrowed her eyes, “And?”
He sighed. “And if details about my past surface—which they will—I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
She stayed silent.
She studied him. Unblinking. “Well I already know that you were running interference for Charles.”
“Yes, but it was worse than that.” Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t just Charles’s errand boy. I was his scalpel. I made people bleed in ways that left no fingerprints.” He looked at her directly. “And I was good at it.”
Harper didn’t speak. Her grip on the coffee cup tightened.
“I helped Charles destroy people who stood in his way. Politicians, advisors, even judges.” He hesitated.
“I didn’t always fabricate things—just… encouraged the worst to rise to the surface.
Sometimes I repeated rumors I shouldn’t have.
Sometimes I made sure vulnerable details reached the wrong ears. ”
“Give me an example,” Harper said quietly.
He swallowed. “Richard Markham. Former Energy Minister. He was pushing for stricter drilling regulations. I got close to someone on his team, got him to confide in me about Markham’s personal struggles.
Then I made sure the right people overheard the right conversations.
” A bitter pause. “It spiraled. His marriage imploded. He resigned six months later.”
Harper stood, turning away. One hand came to her forehead like she needed to hold the thoughts in.
“I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” Sebastian said.
“But I didn’t think so much about the fallout, I couldn’t.
The first time I tried to refuse him, Charles made it clear that wasn’t an option—and that if I wouldn’t handle things his way, he’d find someone who would.
Someone with less… finesse.” Sebastian’s voice grew hollow.
“So I learned to be efficient. Precise. I told myself limited damage was better than total destruction.”
After a long silence, she turned back. Her face was pale but composed. “How many people?”
“Too many. A judge who ruled against Charles’s development project. Policy advisors, anyone who posed a serious threat really.” His voice cracked slightly.
“And now?” she asked eventually.
“Now I want to stop being the weapon Charles made me into.” He turned toward her, urgent. “That version of me—that isn’t who I want to be anymore.”
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers gripping the coffee cup so tightly her knuckles were white. She stared at him. “That’s not nothing. But it doesn’t erase what you did.”
“I know.” He swallowed hard.
The silence stretched between them, painful and necessary. Harper’s hands were shaking slightly. “I wonder how many stories never got told because you silenced the people trying to tell them.”
She paused, then looked directly at him. “Like mine.”
Sebastian’s face went pale. “Harper—”
“My investigation into Charles’s land deals. Three years ago. I had sources, documents, everything. And then—silence. My editor started doubting me. People stopped answering my calls.” Her voice was sharp and quiet. “You killed that story.”
“I did,” he said, barely audible. “But not the way Charles wanted. He wanted to plant evidence. Fabricate witnesses. Accuse you of paying for information. I talked him down.”
Harper’s breath caught.
“I made your sources look shaky. Let a few doubts leak. Got your editor to think you were too close to it. I thought I was protecting you.”
“You were silencing me.”
“I was choosing the lesser evil.”
Her voice dropped. “That wasn’t your choice to make.”
“I know.”
Harper sat again, this time putting distance between them. Her hands were clenched.
“I hated you for what you did,” she said. “I thought you were Charles 2.0, a sociopath with a handsome face. But before you killed the story I also thought that you were smart, funny and maybe a better person than I had been led to believe.”
“I wasn’t,” he said.
“No. You weren’t.”
Silence stretched between them.
“But you might be now.”
Sebastian looked at her, not daring to speak.
“I’ve seen you fight for Alexander. I’ve seen you walk away from Charles when it cost you everything.” Her voice softened. “That’s not the same man who whispered rumors about Richard Markham.”
Relief flickered across his face. “So… you’re not walking away?”
“No.” She looked at him fully. “But you don’t get my trust for free.”
He nodded. “Fair.”
“I don’t want a perfect version of you, Sebastian. I want the real one. The one who knows what Charles is capable of. The one who chooses, every day, not to be that man anymore.”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try. Do it.” Her voice was quiet. “Because if you ever manipulate me again, I will burn everything down.”
He nodded again. “Understood.”
“And one more thing,” she added. “Next time you need to confess years of villainy, bring pastries.”
He laughed, too surprised not to.
“Sebastian?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for telling me. Even if it was hard.”
“Thanks for listening. Even when it hurt.”
She didn’t smile, but she reached for his hand and didn’t pull away.
In the quiet shade of the trees, with the air humming between them, something shifted. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But maybe the start of something else. Hope.