Chapter 10

It didn't take long for the Harrington scandal to hit every social feed in Ashford. Rival firms fanned the flames. Harrington Holdings' stock dropped every single day. The Sterlings watched it all without lifting a finger.

Julian threw Sienna out of the estate. She ran crying to Adrian, who dragged her to a clinic and demanded she terminate the pregnancy.

She refused, shrieked her way up to the rooftop of the hospital, and threatened to jump. Onlookers livestreamed it, of course.

Adrian, teeth bared, shed every ounce of his polished-gentleman image and started screaming at her in public — calling her an illegitimate bastard, nowhere near worthy of him. The entire clip went viral overnight.

In the end, Damien stepped in on behalf of the Sterlings and announced the family would "take responsibility" for the child. He had her quietly moved to a private maternity clinic to finish the pregnancy, and killed the scandal.

Word later got around that after Sienna gave birth, she snapped. She was moved to Ridgewood Sanatorium permanently.

During that stretch, Adrian came looking for me.

His eyes were bloodshot.

"Hazel. Can't we still go through with the engagement? We had... sweet moments too, didn't we?"

I actually laughed.

"Adrian. You're not actually buying your own performance, are you?"

"Sorry. At my level of net worth now, I can't even see you."

Julian came looking for me too. He wanted me to visit our mother.

He said she missed me.

The family business was drowning him. My father had vanished. The Sienna he'd doted on since childhood had turned around and was in open war with him over the inheritance. He looked like he'd aged a decade.

Nothing in me moved.

"Julian. The moment all of you chose Sienna's side — we stopped being family."

"Or I guess — the real 'Sienna' you loved? You lost her a long time ago. The girl you think is your sister now? That's just... this Sienna. Someone else's child."

As the Harrington name kept sinking, my father finally had to resurface and publicly apologize. Too little, too late. Business partners had stopped trusting Harrington Holdings. They pulled out. Rivals went for the throat. The company was in the worst crisis in its history.

I drove out to Millbrook Motorsports Club to find Damien.

He was in a sleek racing suit, one brow tipped up.

"What brings you to your uncle today?"

I almost forgot how to breathe. He was nine years older than me. I'd spent so many years with my head down, just surviving, that I'd somehow never noticed — how good-looking he actually was.

"I, uh —"

I almost said I came to see you.

"I heard Sterling Group's PR team is the best in the business. I was hoping I could borrow them."

Damien smiled — indulgent, soft.

"Then stay. Cheer me on. When I win this thing, I'll give you whatever you want."

His electric-blue car tore off the line. Watching him disappear down the track, something hit me.

A buried memory cracked open.

Eleven years ago, St. Agnes had sent a group of us older kids out to clean up at a private racetrack after a race — the kind of job that brought decent money to the orphanage.

The race had ended. Wrappers and water bottles everywhere.

I'd picked up a grimy stuffed keychain — some character with huge eyes. Ugly as anything. I'd clutched it in my fist anyway.

A bigger kid from the orphanage saw it and assumed it must be valuable. He'd shoved me down hard, snatched it, spat on it, and thrown it back onto the ground.

A twenty-year-old Damien had walked over from somewhere nearby, picked it up carefully, and placed it back in my palm.

When he'd seen my face — something flickered in his eyes.

"Do you like this?"

"Mm."

"Then next time I see you, I'll get you a better one."