Page 184 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“She didn’t… She wouldn’t. She’s not like that. It’s a misunderstanding!”

“A misunderstanding? That she contacted Zachary and fronted him ten grand with a promise of forty more if he lied about me? The police don’t arrest people without proof. Tell me exactly what’s a misunderstanding about that.”

“Help her.” His tone is tight, almost as if he’s clenching his teeth together. “Help her before the press get wind of it.”

“No.”

Finn smiles and grabs the remote. The TV blinks to life, and my lips quirk up at the rolling text on the TV.

“What?”

“No,” I repeat. “I won’t help her. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the press already know. I’d turn on the news if I were you.”

“What are you—” He’s cut off by Rosalyn wailing in the background, and there’s a lot of shuffling and slamming, followed quickly by a string of swearing. “Fix this!” he yells down the phone. “Fix this right now!”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? I said no.”

“Harriet, you ungrateful girl! Are you determined to ruin this family?”

“Yes. Yes, as it happens, I am.” I clench my free fist, but Finn instantly moves to uncurl my fingers. “And if I were you, I’d stop screeching at me and start behaving yourself before I release your precious daughter’s birth certificate.”

If it weren’t for Rosalyn’s hysteria in the background, you could hear a pin drop.

Alas, the woman rather resembles a banshee when she’s upset.

“Shut up, Rosalyn!” my father snaps. “Meet the lawyer at the police station, for God’s sake! I’ll deal with Harriet.”

Deal with me?

“I’d like to see you try,” I say flatly. “You’d have to pay attention to me to do that, and you’ve already proven you’re terrible at it.”

“You—” He stops himself short of whatever he was going to say. When he speaks again, his voice is notably weaker. “What do you mean, a birth certificate?”

“Jasmine’s birth certificate. You and Rosalyn went to great effort to hide her birth, but you should know better than anyone that nothing stays hidden forever.”

“How did you get that?” he asks hoarsely. “How did you… No. There’s no way you have that.”

“Are you sure? She was born in London. The Portland Hospital, wasn’t it? You sent Rosalyn, her mother, and her sister to London before she was unable to travel, rented her a place to live, then flew out for the birth and again a few weeks later to register Jasmine.”

He says nothing.

Then, “What exactly are you trying to say to me?”

“I won’t help Jasmine. She’s attacked me directly here with lies. And not just small, social media fodder, either. Things I could have been arrested for,” I say firmly. “And things that probably did happen to many of the children I saw pass through that godforsaken house I was forced to grow up in. That isn’t a joke. The suffering of others is not a tool for her to use.”

More silence.

“I refuse to help her. And if you try to buy her out of this, I’ll release that birth certificate, and the entire country will know what lying hypocrites the Sinclair family is.” I slip my fingers between Finn’s as he takes my hand. “For once in her life, let her face the consequences of her actions, and she might learn how to act appropriately.”

His response is a cold, dark laugh. “You know, if I knew you were this ruthless, I might have given you a senior position at the company.”

“No, thanks. I’ve seen Titanic. I know what happens to sinking ships.”

Another one of those cold laughs comes crackling through the line. “You do realise you’re blackmailing me, don’t you?”

“Oh, I’m fully aware of that,” I reply brightly. “I also know you aren’t going to tell anyone. If you do, you have to admit what it is I’m blackmailing you with, and you’ll never willingly do that.”

“You’re far smarter than I ever gave you credit for. Then again, you are your mother’s daughter.”