Chapter 11

A year after the engagement-party scandal, Harrington Holdings finally held its rescheduled shareholders' meeting.

I walked in without warning and — in front of my father and Julian — sat down at the head of the boardroom table. Then I smiled.

"Sorry about this. I've been buying up quite a bit of Harrington stock lately. As of today, I'm holding one percent more than the two of you combined. So. This seat will be mine for the foreseeable future."

Simultaneously, a new wave of stories was breaking across Ashford.

Also about the Harringtons.

Except the last wave had been scandal. This one was redemption. Reginald Harrington's real granddaughter — unable to watch her grandfather's life's work collapse — had stepped up to take the helm of Harrington Holdings personally.

"Wait, isn't that the real daughter? The one they exiled to Wickham?"

"She's got more backbone than any of them. Parents didn't love her, brother turned his back on her — and she's still stepping up to save her grandfather's company?"

"I'm rooting for her."

"Same here."

"What does Harrington Holdings sell? Tell me. I'm buying."

Harrington went from public enemy to public favorite overnight. Shelved partnerships came back online. Business crawled back to normal.

In the weeks after, I restructured the company. My father's and Julian's shares got reclassified as non-performing assets and quietly liquidated out of the company.

From here on, they could fight over the crumbs of a wrecked fortune with Sienna, who was in and out of lucid days.

At the very end, I went to see my mother.

Quietly. Just once.

She wasn't well. She drifted through the estate garden all day, murmuring to herself.

"Sienna. Where's my Sienna?"

"Sienna, sweetheart — come home. Come home to Mommy..."

"How did I lose my Sienna..."

I stood still for a long time. Then I left without a sound.

Maybe it was better this way. Let her stay with the Sienna she remembered. And let me stop grieving a love I was never going to get.

Millbrook Motorsports Club.

"Again?"

Damien stared at me, jaw practically on the floor. "First time it was my PR team. Second time my overseas contacts. I know I've been feeding you for years, but between us, sweetheart — ten championships wouldn't keep up with you at this rate!"

His assistant buried his face in his hands.

"All that dressing up she does for you every time, too. Talk about throwing yourself at a brick wall..."

The sun was bright. I laughed, easy.

"Didn't you say — if you want a man, you fight for him?"

"I'm just doing what you taught me."

Damien froze.

"What the — stop talking nonsense. I have no idea what you're saying."

He turned away fast and slammed the racing helmet over his head. But not before I caught the tips of his ears going pink.

A long, long drift of loneliness.

And now — I'd finally found where I came from, and where I belonged.

(The End)