CHAPTER FOURTEEN – HATTIE
“My brother asked me to give you this.” Rafayel slides a purple folder across the table, eyeing me hesitantly.
“What’s that look for?” I ask, pulling it closer to me.
“You’re not still looking into it, are you? You both said you’d stopped. It’s dangerous, Harriet.”
“Something came up,” I say vaguely, opening the folder. Like my marriage. “Ryan said he had some information, so I asked him to share it, that’s all.”
“Fucking hell.” He runs his hand through his hair. “If you get found out—”
“Relax. We cover our tracks for stuff like this. Besides, he’s practically the face of your father’s company now, so they can’t hurt him.”
“And what about you? You’re living under a fake name, for God’s sake. Nobody would care if Hannah Porter went missing again.”
I smile.
“What’s that smile for?” He freezes, clutching his pen tightly. “What are you planning?”
“Nothing.” I drop the smile and turn to the piece of paper inside the folder. A bit dramatic for one sheet of paper, but we’re in his office. If anyone were to walk in, they’d just think I was looking over something business-related.
“Harriet…”
“Oh, you’re such a worrywart,” I tell him, but my heart isn’t in any scolding. I know he’s only looking out for us. “I can’t tell you right now. Just know that everything will make sense later this month.”
He stares at me, then shakes his head and swaps his pen for his coffee. “As long as you won’t get hurt.”
“I won’t. I promise.” I scan the piece of paper. “Huh. How about that? We really do have information this time.”
Rafayel swipes it from my hand and looks at it. “Is this connecting the kidnappers to Askurg’s upper class?”
“Interesting, isn’t it?” I smirk and prop my chin up in my hand. “That’s why we gave up to begin with. We had nothing. Their tracks were so covered, and we didn’t have the resources to dig deeper then. This is nothing more than a flimsy link, but it’s better than no link at all.”
“It’s impressive they managed to hide it at all, given you weren’t the only high-profile child who disappeared from St Peters in the same two-year period.”
“Well, not all those disappearances were connected. Even now, not everyone has come home.” I glance down at a knot in the pattern of the wooden table and briefly trace it with my eyes.
I’m lucky.
Ryan is lucky.
The few other children Sayana took a liking to were also lucky.
That doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget how many children passed through her house while we hid in her basement.
I will never get over how many children never got a chance to return home.
“What are you going to do now?” he asks, pulling me out of my rapidly darkening thoughts.
“I’m not quite sure,” I say honestly, taking the piece of paper back. “It’s not something I can look into on my own, and truthfully, I don’t have the time right now. It might have to wait for a few weeks.”
Rafayel raises his eyebrows. “What, are you securing your future or something?”
I grin. “Something like that.”
“Harriet…”
“I told you; I can’t tell you. If I could, I would. Chances are that it’ll probably even help me figure this out.” I slide the sheet back into the folder. “There’s no trace of this, is there?”
“No. He sent it securely, and I’ve already wiped every trace of it.” He stares at the folder for a second. “You are safe, aren’t you?”
“I am. I promise.” For now.
The jury is out on my safety when the truth comes out about who’s actually marrying the crown prince.
I’m not telling him that, though.
“Good. You’ve come so far since you got back. I still don’t know what you two went through out there, but you deserve some peace in your life.”
Ha.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe I do deserve some peace.
Unfortunately, my soul won’t let me rest until I’ve done the exact opposite of find that. Especially not now I have this.
This is it.
This piece of paper is the first bit of proof I have that Rosalyn was, at minimum, aware of my planned kidnapping.
I know it’s more.
I know she’s responsible.
I know it was all her idea, all part of her plan to make herself the legitimate Mrs Sinclair and take a life that never belonged to her.
And having this? It’s the first step to ripping her apart. To showing everyone who she really is.
A jealous mistress.
A criminal.
A murderer.
I know that realistically, I’ll never be able to prove that she killed my mother. I wasn’t here. I have no proof. Even from what I’ve been told, she never physically laid hands on her or could have organised anything that would have directly killed her.
That doesn’t mean she wasn’t responsible.
I do know that my mother was perfectly healthy when I disappeared.
I know that me going missing would have wrecked her.
I know she would have destroyed herself trying to find me. She would have given everything in her power—things beyond her power. She would have begged and pleaded, she’d have screamed and cried and even bled if it meant bringing me home.
I know that not being able to find me would have shattered her beyond belief.
And killed her.
That’s how much my mother loved me.
That’s why I simply can’t let it go.
“Are you all right?” Rafayel asks.
I feign a smile. “Yes. Sorry. It’s just… A lot.” I motion offhandedly at the folder. “I thought it might feel a little more satisfying to get the lead I wanted.”
“But you’re just angry.”
“Yes.” I pause. “I’ve known the truth ever since I got back here, but a part of me didn’t want to believe it.”
“I won’t ask,” he says quietly. “But I think as humans, we don’t want to see the bad in people. We want to believe people are inherently good, even when we’re faced with truth that tells us otherwise.”
I swallow.
Is that right?
Do I want to believe Rosalyn isn’t a bad person? That she truly had nothing to do with my life being ruined?
Then again, maybe it’s just a general thing. The idea that anyone could arrange for a child to be kidnapped merely to ensure their own daughter’s future is so evil that I can’t comprehend it.
Although, I suppose I don’t need to understand it.
“You can be angry,” Rafayel continues. “Just please, don’t put yourself in danger. Ryan will never let me hear the end of it.”
This time, my smile is genuine. “Don’t worry. I promise, I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” He checks his watch. “I hate to do this, but I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. You can stay here longer if you’d like.”
“No, I have another commitment this afternoon.” I mirror him by checking the time. “In fact, my transportation will be here any minute, so I should get going.”
“Want me to walk you down?”
“No, you prepare for your meeting.” I stand up and pull my laptop out of my bag. I slide the folder into my closed laptop, then put it back and haul the strap over my shoulder. “Thanks… for handing this over. I know you don’t like it when we start digging.”
Rafayel sighs, linking his fingers and stretching his hands up over his head. “I don’t, but it isn’t my place to tell you to stop. Whatever the two of you went through… Well, if you can find answers, you deserve at least that much. If being your messenger boy makes that safer, then I’ll do it.”
“Oh, boohoo—the multimillionaire business owner and heir is reduced to being a little postman. However will you cope in your glass tower here?”
He grins. “I don’t know, but you’ll have to make it up to me one day.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him off as I walk to the door. “Don’t worry,” I say with a smile. “I’ll make it up to you in ways you can only dream of.”
He clutches his chest. “Stop, or I’ll think you’re flirting with me.”
“There’s only one man I flirt with, thank you very much.”
“Ah, your mystery man. I live for the day I can finally meet him.”
I toss a smile over my shoulder. “It might be coming sooner than you think.”
“Wait!”
“See you!” I throw my hand up in a hurried wave and rush away, leaving him gaping after me very unprofessionally.
Honestly, we’re at his office. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than stare after me as if I’ve just spoilt the ending of his favourite movie franchise?
The thought makes me suppress a giggle, and I make my way to the ground floor of the building.
A red car is waiting outside, and I walk up to the driver’s side.
Thankfully, Finn has arranged for the same person to pick me up every day even if the cars change, so I recognise the man in the seat and get into the back.
“Good afternoon,” Sophia says brightly. “You’re a bit late.”
“Sorry, my meeting ran a little over.” I close the door behind me, and after she nods to the driver, he pulls away. “Can you tell me what’s on the schedule for today?”
“I can, but His Royal Highness told me you probably aren’t going to like it, so I think I’ll wait.”
My head snaps around so I can glare at her, and she deliberately looks out of the window. “Sophia…”
“Sorry,” she says with a wince. “I think it’s best he tell you. For me, that is. It’s best for me.”
***
“An interview?” The words squeak out of me, and I blink aimlessly at Finn. “A fricking live interview? Have you lost your mind?”
He presses his lips together. “Unfortunately, it’s tradition.
But don’t worry—the reporter, Melissa Nelson, is from the national news station.
She’s been fully vetted, signed all the appropriate confidentiality forms, and we’ve been over what questions she can and cannot ask.
My mother trusts her more than any other journalist.”
I press my hand to my face, covering one of my eyes. “No. I can’t do this. I don’t have any media training. I’m not prepared at all.”
“We’ve pushed it as late as we can. It needs to be edited before it airs the day after the banquet, and that’s ten days away.”
“I know that, but you never said I’d have to do a live interview. Of all the things you warned me about, don’t you think this should be one you should have mentioned?”
“Don’t panic.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Mr Thirty-Years-Of-Media-Training!”
He takes my hands and pulls me against him. He wraps his arms tightly around my body, pinning mine to my sides, and rests his chin on top of my head.