Page 89 of Seal My Fate

“Shut your mouth!” Cyrus booms. “They could be recording this!”

“And who’s fault is that?” Lionel pitches in.

Their arguing is interrupted by Saint slamming his palm on the table. They fall silent.

“So much for loyalty,” Saint remarks, scathing. “I thought you all were bound together, by duty… and blackmail.”

Their faces change.

“Oh yes, we know all about the dungeons at Ashford House,” I speak up, furious. “And all the sick, twisted things you’ve done. So you better listen to what we have to say, or our next meeting is with the editors ofTheSun,theMirror, andTheLondon Times.”

That gets their attention.

“Good,” Saint says coolly. “Now, Ashford Pharma, and our miracle Alzheimer’s drug. You’ll draft a statement today, Dad, announcing that the trials were fraudulent, and the drug will not be released to market.”

His parents gape. “You can’t possibly be serious. The share price will collapse!”

“The money is the least of your problems,” Saint replies, harsh as steel. “You’ll give a full confession, both of you. About everything. The drug, the lies… and Valerie’s death.”

His mother sounds a sob.

“Lionel, you’ll withdraw from the leadership election, and resign your seat in Parliament,” Saint continues. “People will understand. After all, you need to be with your family at this difficult time.”

Fear flickers on Lionel’s face. “What do you mean? Where’s Hugh?” he demands, looking stricken. “I’ve been calling him all morning. Nobody’s seen him.”

“You mean, since he drugged and kidnapped me, and tried to kill us all at your instruction?” I counter. “He died in the fire.”

Lionel sags back, shocked.

“It was a tragic accident,” I continue. “At least, that’s what you’re going to make sure the coroner’s report says. Unless you want a certain video of his loyalty test made public…”

I’m bluffing, of course. Now that Wren’s destroyed the disc, there’s no proof of Hugh’s crimes. But his father doesn’t know that. He crumples, starting to sob.

I don’t feel a shred of emotion for him. He’s corrupt and evil, just like Hugh.

“What about me?” Cyrus ventures, looking nervous.

I look at him with disdain. He’ll be implicated in the Ashford fraud, and Valerie’s murder, too. I have no doubt he was the one pulling plenty of strings, along with Saint’s mother. But that’s not enough. His position and power will be useful to us in other ways.

“For starters, you’ll help cover-up the fire, and make sure nobody asks any questions about Hugh’s death,” Saint instructs him. “Your newspapers will sell the official story and shut down any investigation.”

“And then you’re going to be overwhelmed with a charitable spirit,” I continue. “And donate your massive fortune to good causes.”

Cyrus snorts. “Over my dead body,” he vows, shooting me a look of such cold disdain that I gulp. But Saint squeezes my shoulder in support.

“It’s funny you should mention bodies…” He produces a disc case from his jacket and slides it across the table to Cyrus.

“That’s Max’s video,” I remind him helpfully. “A copy. And we have yours, too. All of you,” I add, looking around the room. “So if you try to fight us, or hide from the truth, the world will see exactly what kind of monsters you really are. In fact, the first recipients of your generosity will be the victims of your crimes,” I add, shooting Cyrus a glare. “We’re going to track down every one of them, and make sure they’re compensated for what you put them through. Very generously compensated.”

Wren, Saint, and I debated what to do about the rest of the videos. Saint wanted to turn them over to the authorities right away, so the perpetrators could all be hunted down and brought to justice.

But Wren pointed out, that wasn’t our decision to make. The victims of those attacks deserved to make their own call about what happens next. Some of them may not even remember what happened to them, some may have spent a lifetime trying to move on. If we handed the tapes over for criminal prosecution, then they wouldn’t have a say in this, either. Their names would leak, be splashed across the headlines around the world in a salacious frenzy.

We agreed that we’d handle this privately. Saint will hire investigators to track down every last victim, so they can choose for themselves what to do. And if they wanted retribution…

Well, accidents happen. Just ask Hugh Ambrose.

“Is that it?” Cyrus demands. He’s red-faced, gripping the disc case.

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