Page 77 of The Royal Art of Revenge

Who’s adopted?

Jasmine?

“Hold on.” I look at them both, then at Marina, who has been standing silently off to the side this whole time. “Who’s adopted?”

“Jasmine,” Finn says. “She’s your cousin by blood, right? Your uncle’s daughter or something like that?”

My uncle’s daughter?

Whose uncle?

I don’t have an uncle.

“Is that what the staff are told?” I ask Marina, not missing how Alec narrows his eyes and sits up slightly.

She nods. “Yes. We… The staff are quietly told shortly after hiring that Jasmine is your father’s niece, or something like that. His brother? Cousin? And wife passed away in a car crash around the time William Sinclair’s late wife died, and he took her in. He formally adopted her, then married Rosalyn shortly after, who also adopted Jasmine at his request.” She pauses. “When you returned, we were told that you were a distant relative, but the truth came out when you were heard referring to William as ‘Dad.’ After that, we were all forced to sign airtight contracts keeping your identity a secret.”

Ha.

Ha.

Hahahaha.

Shit, I’m actually laughing.

I can’t help it. That story is so unbelievable I can barely believe they’ve managed to pull it off. Jasmine and Rosalyn look far too alike for them to be unrelated, and Jasmine resembles our father far more than I do. She’s the perfect mix of the two of them.

Are these people all stupid?

They must be. It’s the only explanation.

“And everyone believes that?” I ask through my giggles. “Finn? Is that what you were told?”

“Everyone knows that story,” he says, staring at me with confusion muddling his gaze. “He took her in after his relative died because he’d lost both you and your mother. Then he met Rosalyn, and she adopted Jasmine a couple of years later after they were married.”

I press my hand to my mouth and glance away, taking a deep breath in through my nose.

Wow.

It’s like I’ve stepped into a fucking soap opera.

“Hattie?” Finn gently touches his fingertips to my knee. “Are you all right?”

“I have to give kudos to them,” I say quietly, lowering my hand. “Because they’ve got you all totally fucking fleeced. Even the household staff. Wow. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m impressed.”

“What do you mean?” There’s an edge to Finn’s tone, and when I turn my head and meet his gaze, I simply raise my eyebrows and smile.

“My father is an only child, and his cousins are all alive. As far as I’m aware, there have been no deaths in his side of the family except for my grandparents around fifteen years ago. Certainly, there no orphaned children in the paternal side of the family.”

He stares at me, but it’s Alec cocking his head to the side that catches my attention.

“I did hear… A long time ago…” he mutters, then pauses when he sees I’m looking at him. “I was young. Early teens, maybe. My mother was gossiping about something to do with the new Sinclair wedding. Something about a mistress, but I’ve never thought anything of it. The story we all knew was plausible, after all. Nobody wanted to question a grieving man finding happiness, either.”

That’s the problem.

Sometimes, grieving people do stupid shit.

Like take in their biological daughter, marry their mistress, and spin a web of fucking lies.