Page 189 of The Royal Art of Revenge

“Maybe a fresh start is for the best for her.” I lie back in the tub and wriggle my toes. “Especially alone. Without her parents there to enable her every move, she might learn a thing or two.”

“I don’t disagree. I’ll never forgive her for what she tried to do to you, but she was a victim, too.”

Slowly, I nod. He’s right. That’s something I’ve come to learn over the past few months in my sessions with Dr Carter.

Jasmine was a victim in her own way.

She didn’t ask to be born of an affair. She didn’t ask to replace me.

The adults who put a child in that position hold the blame. They created who she is today. They exposed her to situations and enabled bad behaviours, and all it’s resulted in is a nightmare.

For everyone.

In the end, nobody really won.

William Sinclair didn’t win. Rosalyn didn’t win. Jasmine didn’t win.

Even I, in a way, didn’t win.

I may have gotten everything I really wanted, but it came at the expense of the one thing I’d always wanted: a relationship with my father. It was unlikely as it was, but until the day we both signed the documentation officially estranging me from the Sinclairs, I harboured the slightest, childish hope that he might come around.

That he might even apologise.

Him walking away without a word was the closure I needed, though.

“Is it weird if I say that I hope she finds happiness?” I ask, rolling my head to the side and meeting his gaze. “I’ll never forgive her, but I don’t think I hate her. I don’t feel anything towards her. But she deserves to find peace.”

“No, it’s not weird.” He scoots the chair over and reaches out to push some hair from my eyes. “You’re just a good person.”

“That’s a little heavy-handed considering I wrecked an entire family and their business just a few months ago.”

“I recall you apologising for it.”

“Sarcastically.”

He grins, cupping my chin. “A sarcastic apology is still an apology.”

“I will bite you.” I snap at his hand, and he pulls back with a laugh.

“How was your engagement today?”

“Humbling. A lot of people spent a lot of time thanking me for being so open about my own struggles with my mental health. I’m still not used to it.” I pause. “Will I ever get used to it?”

Finn shakes his head. “That’s one of the weird things about what we do. We can inspire people just by existing.”

It is weird.

I’m glad he knows that.

“By the way, that fashion Instagram account you like had your outfit identified in less than ten minutes this morning.”

“Really? Damn.” I shake my head. “These internet sleuths really are terrifying.”

“You didn’t mind when they were digging up stuff on Jasmine.”

“Oh no, they were terrifying then, too.” I reach for my wine. “I’ll have to try harder with my skirt next time.”

“You might have to resort to hand-sewing it yourself to stump her.”