LOGINCameron’s report on Helen was brief.She’d attempted the bathroom window at half two in the morning and had made it as far as the ledge before the guard posted on the adjacent rooftop had persuaded her otherwise.The French window onto the balcony had fared worse: she’d put a chair through it, which had produced both an impressive quantity of broken glass and the unwelcome attention of three guards arriving simultaneously.She was now, Cameron informed me, refusing food and demanding an audience.‘She won’t eat unless she sees you.’‘Let her,’ I said.A woman who’d spent her entire life looking out for herself alone would sooner put a knife in me than voluntarily deny herself a meal. The hunger strike was theatre.But, just in case…‘If her health deteriorates,’ I said, ‘get a doctor in. IV nutrition. I’m not having her collapse on me.’‘Understood.’ Cameron nodded and left.Keeping Helen in that room was not a permanent solution. It wasn’t even a good temporary one. But it was the sol
‘His guilt might override his loyalty to Gloria,’ Lochlan said. ‘It should be just enough. Besides, for the plan to work, we don’t need him to actually make a decision.’‘Just the illusion that he has,’ I said.‘That’s right.’I thought about it for a moment. ‘Do you think Gloria would leave me alone if I told her I have absolutely zero interest in taking the surname Lockwood? What if I tell her I don’t care about the apparently vast Lockwood fortune? Actually, just out of curiosity, how much money are we talking about?’‘The Lockwoods are an old family. Their wealth has accumulated over generations.’‘So, are we talking about seven or eight figures?’‘It’s substantially more than that.’ Lochlan gave me a number.I let out a low whistle. ‘And if Desmond dies and I die, all that money goes to Gloria and her daughter?’‘Yes.’‘No wonder she wants me out of the way.’‘Words won’t change her mind,’ Lochlan said. ‘As long as you are alive, you are a threat to her. That is Gloria’s logic.’I
Lochlan stood in the doorway.I had not, until that moment, fully understood how much of the day I’d been holding together with sheer bloody-mindedness.The car. The road. Desmond’s first aid kit. Gran’s face when she saw the blood. The revelation that had turned the ground under my feet into something I no longer entirely recognised.All of it, held at arm’s length through the long hours of the evening by the simple necessity of getting through the next five minutes and the five minutes after that.Lochlan’s face undid about six hours of that effort in approximately three seconds.He nodded at Desmond, said something quiet to Mum, and crossed the room to me. He leant down and put his arms around me, carefully, mindful of the bandaged arm, and I let my head drop against his shoulder and closed my eyes and thought: there it is. There’s the thing I’ve been waiting for all day without letting myself know I was waiting for it.He straightened up after a moment and looked at my arm, examini
Mum came into the room. She put a tray down on my bedside table.‘I brought you dinner,’ she said.I looked at the food, then back at her. ‘Why are you telling me this now?’‘What do you mean?’‘You spent more than twenty years keeping this a secret. Why did you decide to tell me now?’Mum fell silent. She looked down at the tray, and her fingers twisted together.‘Is it because of Aaron Lockwood?’ I asked. ‘He’s been behaving strangely since the day I met him, and he kept visiting you to ask questions.’Mum’s voice was low. ‘He would’ve found out eventually. I couldn’t let you be the last person to know the truth.’‘It doesn’t change anything, you know,’ I told her.‘Hyacinth, please,’ she began.‘It doesn’t. You are still my mum, and Dad is still my dad. Aaron Lockwood is my biological father, and that’s all he’s ever going to be.’‘I know you are upset and confused right now. I know we dropped this on you without notice and it’s unfair to you. You might need some time to think it th
I stood in the open doorway and surveyed the damage.The bedside lamp lay in pieces across the carpet, and the curtains had been ripped half off their rails. The dresser drawers had been pulled out and emptied, leaving clothes scattered everywhere.Helen sat on the edge of the mattress, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, her eyes narrowed to slits. ‘I should’ve known you were just as cunning a bastard as your dad.’‘I told you to leave London.’‘I ain’t leaving until I get my money. I want my money.’‘I’m not giving you any money.’Helen spat on the floor and lunged to her feet. ‘You fucking idiot, you’ve just thrown away your own future. I’m going to call every tabloid I know. I’m going to call the fucking ITV and BBC, and by tomorrow morning everyone in London will know the almighty Lochlan Hastings is a bastard child, a crack baby with addicts for parents. I’m going to cry so hard in front of the cameras the public will want to believe I’ve reformed. They’ll know you turned
The man standing in the kitchen doorway was tall, silver-haired, and the last person I’d expected to see.Apparently, Desmond had the same thought.He was on his feet in an instant. ‘Uncle Aaron. What are you doing here?’Aaron Lockwood looked at him, then at me, then back at Desmond. ‘I could ask you the same thing.’‘I asked first.’‘Desmond –’‘Gran,’ I said.Everyone looked at me.I was looking at Gran Alison, who was standing very still by the fireplace with her hands clasped in front of her, wearing the expression I knew meant she had something difficult to say and had decided the time for saying it had arrived.‘What’s going on?’ I asked.Gran said, ‘This is why I asked your mum to call you down here. We need to talk.’ She looked at Aaron Lockwood. ‘All of us.’We sat. Dad on the sofa beside Mum, whose hands he was holding in both of his. Desmond in the armchair he’d been in before, his elbows on his knees now, watching his uncle like a police officer watching a suspect.Aaron L
Consciousness returned like a faulty elevator, lurching and unpleasant.My first sensation wasn’t sight or sound, but smell.A thick, cloying, nauseating stench of petrol that saturated the air, my clothes, my skin, my hair. It was in my nostrils, my throat, a toxic perfume that promised nothing goo
I lifted my head.The soft glow from the bedside lamp washed over Hyacinth’s face, and I had been watching her just like that, completely still, the entire night.At some point, I had rested my head beside hers on the pillow, my face buried in the curve of her neck. The tears would not stop falling,
I started to back out, my hand going to the door to pull it wider, to let some metaphorical fresh air into the suddenly charged space.‘Close the door,’ a cool voice came from the bed. ‘Unless you’re aiming for me to catch my death of cold.’Right. Of course. I blinked, muttered a quick ‘sorry,’ and
‘You’ll need to take the robe off, then.’I mentally squared my shoulders, deciding to just get on with it and stop overthinking the entire mortifying situation.Lochlan didn’t move. Not a muscle. He just fixed me with those pale, impossibly deep eyes that seemed to see right through every defence I







