‘Oh yes. And that’s one of the milder stories. My family was more concerned with finding the leak than our little bit of fun.’ She pauses. ‘How are you, though? Really?’
‘I’m…’ I start, then stop. What am I? Angry. Hurt. Dead inside. ‘I’m surviving.’
‘Your girlfriend seems lovely,’ Millie says. ‘I saw the photos. You look happy together.’
The mention of Theo rips open the wound I’ve been trying to cauterise. I don’t correct Millie. Can’t form the words to explain that Theo was never really mine, and it was all for show. That I fell for her anyway.
‘Aye. She’s… She’s something else. How’s Lord What’s-His-Face?’ I’m dying to change the subject. ‘He forgive you for that night?’
‘Ludo is in the past.’ She sighs wearily. ‘I left him and ended the engagement, actually.’
‘Och, shite, hen. I’m sorry.’ Am I supposed to apologise for possibly contributing to a breakup? Can’t hurt, I reckon.
‘Don’t be. He wasn’t even that upset about the sex, more about the video, which was part of the problem. He should have been with us that night instead of attending a board meeting in Luxembourg. I got a glimpse of my future and decided I’d rather not live like that.’
I sink back onto the bed. ‘Good for you.’
‘I should let you go. Just thought you should know about Kit. Papa’s lawyers are handling it discreetly, but if you want to pursue your own legal action…’
‘Thanks. I’ll think about it. Say hi to your stepsister for me.’
Millie lets out a warm laugh. ‘Oh, I will. She’s going to be so jealous that we talked. Take care, Finn. You’re a good one.’
The call ends, and I stare at my phone, emotions all over the shop. Relief that I know the truth. Rage at Kit’s betrayal. A strange gratitude toward Millie for reaching out.
And beneath it all, a bone-deep hurt whenever I think of Theo.
My hands are shaking. Fucking Kit. The piece of shit who poured drinks and laughed and filmed us without consent. Who sold me out for cash. He played us both. I can almost see his smug face. And fuck, I want to wipe that smirk off permanently.
But I’m not that man anymore.
And soon, I’ll be in Marseille. Hopefully far enough away from it all. Even though it fucking wrecks me.
Chapter 23
Theo
The drive back from Elie is a long, slow exhale.
Two hours at most, I told myself. A short Sunday check-in with enough time to show face, drop off biscuits, and pretend I wasn’t using the detour to hold my pieces in place.
Things with my mum have been better, in that low-grade, stable-since-seventeen way where nobody’s waiting for a phone call in the night. But there’s still a weight to seeing her, like stepping into a version of myself I thought I’d outgrown. Apparently, heartbreak makes me nostalgic for emotional minefields.
I could tell myself all this, and it wouldn’t be wrong. But the simple truth is: I just wanted my mum.
So I stayed overnight.
The road along the coast unfolds before me like a ribbon dropped by a careless giant. The Monday morning traffic is bearable. Sunshine glints off the North Sea, turning it into a sheet of silver foil. It’s not spring yet, not really, but the light’s doing its best impression. One of those rare mid-February days in Scotland where the sky remembers how to be blue and everything smells faintly of potential.
I grip the steering wheel tighter. The words from an hour ago are still ringing in my ears, bouncing around the car’s quiet interior.
‘I was afraid you’d harm yourself, Mum.’ I said it so plainly, the sentence dropping into the space between us like a stone.
For years, that fear had been my secret roommate, the silent passenger in every car, the shadow in every room.
Mum set her teacup down with a soft click against the saucer. Her hands didn’t tremble. ‘Oh, sweetheart. I know, I was very unwell, but I would never have done that to you.’ Her voice was calm, rooted in a balance that took her years to find.
I nodded, polite and adult, while something in me unfurled and exhaled. This is good to hear. But the younger me, the tiny, petrified project manager of our broken family, didn’t know that.
