Page 129 of The Painter and His Poet

I nod, my hand squeezing Harlow’s as she sits quietly by my side. “Thank you for managing this all so quickly,” I say, looking from Walter to Charles.

“You’re welcome. Now I have some final paperwork to finish. If you’ll excuse me?” Charles asks, gathering up the file in front of him before standing.

“Of course,” Walter agrees, waiting for him to leave the office before breaking the silence. “I know that this past month has been really difficult for you both, especially you, Harlow. But I want you to know that the people who care about you the most, do not blame you for any of this.”

“He was your friend,” Harlow whispers, and even though we’ve talked about this over and over, she still feels immense guilt despite knowing that if she hadn’t acted then my father would have tried to kill us both. If I could change what happened, I’d do so in a heartbeat. I’ve struggled with the fact that Harlow is carrying the burden of killing my father, albeit by accident. All I ever wanted was to keep her safe, and I failed.

“Regrettably, yes,” Walter replies with a sigh. “But that man doesn’t deserve your guilt, and no matter our past relationship, I do not condone his actions in any way. Harlow, you did what you had to do, and for what it’s worth I’mproudof you.”

Harlow lets out a small sob, and I wrap my arm around her, hauling her into my side. “My mother isn’t,” she whispers. “She still blames me.”

“Your mother will get over it,” Walter snaps, his feelings for Melody about the same as my own, that is, we both despise her.

The way she treated Harlow in the aftermath of that night was disgusting. The police were called, statements were taken, and rather than Melody comforting Harlow after everything wasexplained, she’d attacked her in a fit of rage. If we never see that woman again it will be too soon.

Harlow lets out a shuddering breath. “She’ll never forgive me.”

“It isn’t you that should be seeking her forgiveness, not after how she’s treated you, Harlow,” Ben says firmly, fully aware of what has happened, and how her mother has behaved since.

Despite my father’s prenup, she has become a very wealthy woman, a fifth of my father’s money now lining her bank balance. Thankfully Walter’s lawyers were quickly able to put a gag order in place, preventing Melody from profiting off of the events of that night after we found out she was courting one of the gossip magazines. She’s since left for Los Angeles, taking her riches with her. Good fucking riddance.

Unsurprisingly, my father left me very little in his will, most of my inheritance was wrapped up in clauses that I never fulfilled. Mainly taking over his businesses, of which I never wanted anything to do with. The deeds to Adaga Hall will be passed onto me as the surviving heir as was written in a watertight contract penned over a hundred years ago by my great, great grandfather who had the foresight to ensure that the property would only ever be owned by a Blade, despite my father’s apparent attempts over the years to try and get around that particular stipulation.

And despite knowing that my father bought all the paintings of Harlow, they are now back in our possession, the millions of pounds he paid to secure them used to assist Daisy and Dalton, freeing both them, and Drix, from Carl’s hold. At the very least something good came out of this whole mess.

“Are you planning on moving back into Adaga Hall?” Walter asks me, quickly adding, “You are of course welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. There is absolutely no rush.”

“Actually, we’ve decided to do some travelling for a few months before returning to Adaga Hall,” I explain. “We need to get away for a while. We’re meeting my mother in Sydney, Australia towards the end of our trip. She’s always wanted to visit the country, and Harlow and I are keen to spend some time with her.”

Walter grins. “That sounds like a great plan. Let us know when you’re returning, and I’ll host a dinner party to welcome you home.”

“I will. Thank you, Walter, for everything,” I reply, climbing to my feet.

Harlow rises too and after a quick exchange of goodbyes, Ben follows us out of the building and onto the quiet backstreets of Princetown, where our cars are parked.

“Fancy a drink at Bandits?” he asks, eyeing us both.

“Harlow?” I question, acutely aware that today has been taxing on her mental wellbeing.

“Actually, I think that would be really nice,” she replies, giving us both a wavering smile.

“Mind if the rest of the gang join us?” Ben asks, giving me a look that tells me he’s already invited them.

“Of course not,” Harlow says. “We wanted to say goodbye before we left anyway.”

“Excellent.”

Ten minutes later we’re locked in at Bandits Bar. It’s closed for the evening, and we’re surrounded by our close friends. Behind the bar Ben is gathering drinks for everyone, whilst I chat with Dalton and Drix, and Harlow is talking with Lia and Daisy.

“How’s Harlow doing?” Drix asks me, casting his gaze her way before giving my shoulder a squeeze.

“She could be better,” I admit. “It’s been rough, you know?”

“I bet, mate.”

“She’s strong, and she has you,” Dalton chimes in, his voice filled with reassurance.

I offer them both a small smile of gratitude as Ben approaches with the drinks. Setting the tray on the table, he hands them out.

---