Page 179 of The Royal Art of Revenge

It’s no different to me ripping out my soul and laying it bare on the street for everyone to examine.

But for the first time, I wasn’t alone when dealing with it.

There wasn’t a single second of those three days when I was alone.

Well, excluding toilet visits. Even then, I think either Finn or Valentina were waiting outside the door.

In the few times neither one could be with me between the filming sessions, I was with a psychologist. The Royal House had abused its authority to fly in an esteemed doctor from the U.K., and between her and the psychiatrist I’d recently begun seeing, I was able to get through it all.

Only just.

Sometimes, the mental mountains were the hardest ones to overcome.

“What you’ve done,” Dr Carter says, filing away her papers. “Is one of the bravest things anyone could do, Harriet. Do not be disheartened if you find yourself regressing over the coming days.”

I swallow, then nod. We’ve been over this several times. The ‘unboxing’ of my trauma, as she casually put it at the start of all this, could undo all the work I’ve put in over the years. Mostly because I haven’t addressed it—I’ve accepted it, but that isn’t the same thing. For the most part, it’s lived buried away in the depths of my mind, something that only forces its way out when I can no longer control it.

“That said, I’m not concerned.” She hits me with a warm smile that wrinkles the corners of her eyes. “You have a wealth of support here.”

“I’m very lucky,” I agree.

“You have my number if you need me before I call next week. Are you sure you don’t want me to delay my flight tonight? I really am happy to stay an extra night while your statement airs.”

I shake my head. “I can manage. Honestly, I’m so exhausted I think I might sleep through the whole thing.”

“Whatever you need to do to get through this is valid.” She pauses. “You can call me, day or night, you know that.”

This time, I smile. “I know. Thanks, doc.”

She returns the gesture and touches my shoulder. “Good luck, Harriet. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Otherwise, we’ll talk next week.”

“Have a safe flight home,” I reply.

“Oh, have you seen that plane? I certainly will.”

She leaves me with a wink, and I’m barely alone for a second before Valentina scurries inside and drops herself onto the sofa Dr Carter just vacated. She huffs as she falls, and she meets my questioning gaze.

“My father,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Apparently, my stepmother is positively irate about my part in your broadcast. She claims that dragging up the past will only hurt the Deverauxs.”

“Why?” I ask, reaching for the teapot so I can pour us both a cup of tea. “Is she afraid someone will look into it and she’ll get found out?”

Valentina smirks. “Shall I ask her?”

“Only if you want to cause even more drama.”

“I’m sure she’ll do that anyway.”

“No need to provoke her unless you want to deal with it,” I point out, pushing a cup of tea in her direction. “What did your father say?”

“That he isn’t really happy about me discussing it in public, but he understands it’s to support you. The only reason he hasn’t kicked off is because he thinks the more that I publicly support you, the more likely you’ll be to make me your aide when you marry Finn.”

I pause. “Did you tell him that’s already been decided?”

“No. Honestly, he’ll just tell Vivienne, and she’ll make my life a living hell. Better to keep that to ourselves.” She sighs and sits back, stretching her legs out in front of her. “For now, I shall continue to be a wanton socialite who frivolously spends money. That way she has something to whine about.”

“It sounds like she’d find something to whinge about no matter what you do,” I reply. “All that’s left is to find a husband she can complain about.”

“Now you’re talking.” Valentina reaches for her tea. “Maybe that’s my next move. Marry someone better than my brother plans to. That’ll really get her goat.” She pauses. “Perhaps I should go fishing for someone with a title and make her bow to me. Imagine how much that’ll piss her off.”