Page 126 of The Painter and His Poet

“Robert, unlock the door,” I say, trying to hide the sudden tremor in my voice as Robert turns to face me, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

Seconds slip past slowly as realisation dawns.

No. Please, no.

“Oh, Harlow, you really didn't think you could escape me, did you? It was very remiss of Sterling to think that I didn’t have a key to his studio,” he sneers, the concern in his eyes evaporating as he advances towards me with slow, deliberate steps.

“W-what are you talking about?” I ask, panic surging through me as I stand, the tremble in my voice giving away my fear.

Robert's eyes gleam with malice as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, his finger swiping over the screen before he flips it around to face me. “Does this seem familiar?” he asks.

My gaze drops to the photograph that Sterling sent of the painting he did of me. The one we thought we’d sent to Councillor Hoxton. Bile burns that back of my throat as I realise the true extent of the danger I'm in.

“You’re my?—”

“You've been playing a dangerous game, Harlow,” Robert interjects, circling around me like a predator closing in on its prey. “Do you think I’m not aware of how you’ve been carrying on with my son right under my nose? Do you think that I can allow that to continue?”

“You’vebeen sending me the messages?” I manage to choke out.

“Yes, though the shock on your face tells me that you didn’t figure that out until just now. It’s clear to me now that you thought it was John going by how you reacted to his presence this evening.” His smile widens, revealing a malevolent side that Sterling had warned me about on so many occasions. “Whilst Hoxton is a deviant bastard, it wasn’t him.”

“You’re sick!” I exclaim, unable to help myself.

“I must admit it’s been the most fun I’ve had in years. Though I had hoped you’d think it was Sterling sending the messages, and that you’d sever your relationship with him once and for all. That was a fatal error in judgement on my part,” he retorts.

“I don’t understand. You sent me that first message way before you married Mom, before Sterling and I were officially introduced at your wedding. You’re not making any sense. None of this is making sense.”

“You really were so enamoured with him that you didn’t even notice me sitting at the bar that night, huh?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he regards me.

I blink at him, my thoughts whirling, and then I remember the lone man at the bar.

No! No way.

“That wasyou?”

“Indeed.”

“How did you even know I’d be there that night?”

“When I decided to commit to a relationship with your mother, I made it my business to know everything about her,andby extension you. I had some checks done, and it’s amazing what you can find out if you know the right people. I was made aware of your account on Instagram, so I asked my employee to do a little more digging. That led me to find out about your secret identity, and it wasn’t all that hard to find out whereyou were singing next given my extensive contacts and access to some rather talented hackers. Intrigued, I wanted to hear you sing in person, so I made a quick diversion to the bar before heading over to see your mother at the hotel. You can imagine my surprise when I saw Sterling stumble into the club and leave with you a few minutes later,” he adds, narrowing his eyes at me. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where you were going off together, and so I had to act.”

“How could you?” I hiss, utterly sick to my stomach.

“Very easily, Harlow. I am a man used to getting what he wants, and I do not want you having a relationship with my son!”

“Please, Robert, I never meant to come between you and Sterling. We love each other,” I plead, desperation seeping into my voice.

Robert’s expression darkens, his eyes narrowing as he looms closer. “Love each other? You think what you have is love? It’s nothing but a pathetic infatuation, and it ends now.”

“We didn’t mean for this to happen. We met before you made anything official with my mom. I didn’t even know Sterling was your son until the night before your wedding. I know that this is unusual,” I say, trying to appeal to his better nature, hoping that there’s a part of him that is decent.

“Yet you’ve been sneaking around with each other ever since!” he shouts.

“If you didn’t want us to be together then why force Sterling to spend time with me under the guise of wanting a happy family? Why not just confront us both?”

“Because I believed once you’d found out about his illness, you’d see how fucked-up he is and end the relationship yourself just like everyone else in his life has. That boy is incapable of having any real relationships. He’s an embarrassment.”

“He has friends!” I argue, anger mixing with fear. “He’s a good man. He’s loyal, brave, and talented. How dare you say such things. How dare you treat him the way you have!”

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