Page 135 of The Royal Art of Revenge

William freezes, almost as if he hasn’t considered she genuinely might not want to come back.

“I can ask her,” I say, resting my hand on the doorknob. “But that doesn’t mean she’ll agree. Nor will I force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Unfortunately, she still needs to return to get her belongings, so you might just get lucky.”

He sits back in the chair, dipping his head. “Yes, yes. Of course. I’d forgotten that.”

Naturally.

It was a wonder he could remember her name.

“Just be prepared for it to be the last time she ever sets foot in this house,” I say, opening the door. “And remember what I’ve said here tonight, William. Harriet is untouchable. That is non-negotiable.”

He swallows.

“And what I said about listening to her? When I said she tells me everything, I mean she tells me everything.” I hold his gaze. “And I believe her. Without question.”

His eyes widen, and he clenches his hand around the arm of the chair. Then, he shakily gets to his feet and bows. “I will keep your words in mind. Goodnight, Your Royal Highness.”

I eye him for a moment before stepping out of the room and letting the door swing shut behind me. It closes with a bang, and that ear-splitting noise is followed by a smash from inside the office. It takes everything within me not to smile the way I want to.

He’s just a weak man. One unable to stand up for his daughter in the face of his wife. One unwilling to stand up for her.

Thank fuck we ran into each other that day in the park. Thank fuck she found me, that fate made our paths cross.

Thank fuck she never has to fight her battles alone again.

As long as I’m here, there will always be someone willing to fight for Harriet Sinclair. To the very ends of the Earth if that’s what it takes.

I glance back at the door to William’s office before turning for the stairs. I don’t know if I trust him, but at least he’s gotten the message for now.

That doesn’t mean I’m done.

That doesn’t mean I won’t have someone watching Jasmine.

Hattie might have correctly predicted her plan to sway the media, but that doesn’t mean it’ll always be the case. The day Jasmine tried to have her attacked under the guise of a photoshoot says everything.

There’s not a chance in fucking Hell that I’ll let them harm her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – HATTIE

I am unendingly disappointed at how easy it’s been to ruin my sister’s reputation.

I expected more of a fight. I wanted more of a fight. I wanted to go to Hell and back in my pursuit of my revenge, yet all it took was a few measly words and getting pathetically slapped in the face to undo a good portion of her hard work and show people who she really is.

On one hand, it’s incredible. Jasmine has put years into making herself look like the perfect princess-in-waiting, and I ruined it in a matter of minutes. Even after ‘stealing’ her future, the internet sees me as a victim.

And, in this day and age, that’s all that matters.

What people on the internet think.

Because the internet exists in a vacuum. Online spaces are a cacophonic mix of caring and not caring, of matters of importance and utter frivolities. They’re nothing but an echo chamber for people to scream their opinions into the void only to be screamed at right back. They’re a space people can allow their darkest sides to surface, to say things they’d never say out loud, to engage in conversations they’d never have at the dinner table, and all under the guise of anonymity.

These are all things I can use to my advantage.

Things I am using to my advantage. Things I need. I need the angry keyboard warriors to pity me, to see me as the victim, to believe I’m the wholly wronged party here. Just as I need a small pocket of them to fight Jasmine’s corner. I need some people to believe I’m completely in the wrong, that I’m the worst, that I’ve stolen her entire life without any right to do so, that I’m evil and cruel and the aggressor in this entire situation.

Maybe they’re wrong.

Maybe they’re right.