Page 78 of The Sin

It had been my face up on that screen. I hadn’t known they were recording me, obviously. And they’d done some clever editing to transition smoothly between the high impact, bold statements they’d wanted delivered. But they hadn’t put words in my mouth. I had spoken those truths.

I would bear the consequences of my actions.

I would be their sacrifice.

Not because I was a selfless martyr for the cause. I’d never been that brave, that fearless. But because I didn’t have a choice.

At the very least, my sacrifice wouldn’t be for nothing.

The message was out there.

The truth would set us free.

Julian stepped forward, his gaze bouncing between me and Roman, and it was hilarious, sickeningly hilarious, that I’d thought, even for those few miserable moments, that my silly little life could ever make some profound difference.

“We will control the narrative,” he said, looking at us, speaking at us, although it was for the benefit of his fellow councilmen. “It’s all lies. A theatrical production designed to create chaos and undermine the foundation of our society.”

His eyes pricked me, his words cut, but his tone wasn’t vindictive or angry. He sounded exhausted. Dog-bone tired. “You are a confused, mentally unhinged girl. We are not heartless. We take care of our own. We will ensure you get the best medical treatment Capra has to offer.”

He was speaking about Rehab.

Not a surprise. Not a shock. This was the sacrifice I’d already resigned myself to. And yet, a cold shiver quivered through me.

I closed my eyes, and breathed, and breathed.

Roman gave my hand a squeeze, and then his warmth and strength shifted, and he was gone.

My eyes flashed open.

He hadn’t gone anywhere.

He’d pushed up against the wall, leaning back with his arms folded across his chest, an arrogant, indolent look in his eyes. “That’s not how this is going down.”

I scrabbled up the wall to stand beside him.

“This time, she’s crossed the line.” Julian shook his head, grimacing. “Your High Wardens can’t help you now.”

“I don’t need the High Wardens,” Roman said. “I’ve got you.” His gaze went to Councilman Thorpe. “And you.” He looked at Councilman Otter. “And you.”

Otter bared his teeth. “You’re over-stepping your boundaries,boy.”

Roman’s expression blanked. Cold, hard nothing replaced the arrogance and indolence as he looked at Julian. “You had Miriam committed to rehab for five weeks. I have the documents with your signature. You style yourself as the young, warm, charming councilman, the one everyone can relate to. Mothers. Daughters. Fathers. If this got out, that reputation would be forever tarnished.”

Julian’s face fisted.

Roman wasn’t finished with him. “But Daniel is the real reason you’re desperate to keep your secret. The Guard never came knocking. Your fellow councilmen never demanded. No one suspected your wife of any insubordinate behavior. It was you, only you, and you would do anything to ensure Daniel never finds out.”

Roman didn’t wait for Julian to respond. He turned on Thorpe. “Your frequent visits to The Smoke aren’t all business. You enjoy the company of certain ladies of the night.”

“Lies,” Thorpe muttered heatedly, glaring daggers at Roman. “Preposterous lies. Who in their right mind would believe that?”

“I have photos,” Roman drawled. “Capra is founded on good, wholesome family values. Imagine what would happen if your dark proclivities came to light? Correct me if I’m wrong,” he added innocently, “but isn’t adultery considered treason in Capra?”

Thorpe’s cheeks blew up like a porpoise. “Those photos don’t exist, and even if they did, no one will ever see them. I can make them disappear—” he snapped his fingers “—just as quickly as I can make you disappear.”

Roman brushed the threat off with a shrug. “I have powerful connections, and all the evidence is in safe hands. They have their instructions on what to do with it, if anything were to happen to me.”

My breath caught. My heart pained. What was Roman doing? He was playing his hand, hisfullhand, giving up all the blackmail material he’d gathered in Amelia’s name, giving it up forme. I hadn’t asked him for this. I’d never wanted to take that from him.

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