Worthington-Frost. The same surname as Sebastian.
Remembering from the article that Emma worked in a school, her fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed,‘Worthington-Frost, Emma, daycare’and pressed enter.
The search results appeared instantly, and there at the top was a link to a perfectly ordinary, extremely unexciting website for a primary school PTA fundraiser, with a tiny thumbnail photo of a smiling woman presenting a giant cheque for a sponsored walk. The caption read:Sarah Worthington-Frost, fundraising coordinator.
Pippa clicked the link. The woman had the same distinctive double-barrelled surname as Emma… Surely that wasn’t a coincidence?
Pippa kept digging, opening new tabs, checking dates, following links to try to find a connection between Emma, Sarah and– hopefully– Sebastian. Andrew Wetherby’s family tree slowly came together on the screen.
There was Andrew and Emma.
Their two sons; Oliver and Henry.
Henry’s wife, Sarah.
And a grandson.
Sebastian Worthington-Frost.
Pippa sucked in a breath. Andrew Wetherby was Sebastian’s grandfather.
‘Oh my God,’ she said. Then, ‘Oh my actual God.’
Sebastian’s grandfather was the man who’d stolen from the Vale Brothers.
No wonder Sebastian had such a twisted obsession with the Vales and had been so desperate to embarrass Horace, swearing blind that Wetherby– his grandfather, she now knew– had been set up.
She flung back her duvet, still clutching her phone and the book, and marched towards Theo’s room like a woman propelled by nuclear-level urgency. She lightly knocked on the door.
‘Mmph,’ came a muffled sound from the bed.
‘It’s me,’ she whispered, as though anyone else could possibly be knocking on the door of his room at this hour.
Another muffled sound emerged, this one possibly a question or possibly a groan. She pushed the door open without waiting for an invite. Theo was sprawled on his side, the duvet pooled around his waist, his hair in a state of mild anarchy. His eyes were half-lidded, his face slack with sleep. He blinked at her in the dimness.
‘I know you don’t particularly want to talk to me right now, but you need to hear this.’
Theo sat up in bed looking alarmed, his hair tousled, his T-shirt rumpled.
Words were falling out of her mouth so quickly her mind was having trouble keeping up. ‘Just listen… Andrew Wetherby, Vale’s other apprentice– the one who worked alongside your grandfather– he… he… he’s…’ She flapped the phone wildly at him. ‘He’s Sebastian’s grandfather.’
Theo blinked at her, completely stunned. ‘What?’
‘I’ve got proof. Actual proof. Solid, name-change, PTA-fundraiser proof.’
Pippa had his full attention.
‘Hang on… start again. Slower. I just… what?’
But Pippa was already speed-talking again, incapable of slowing down.
When she’d finished, Theo just stared at her, his mouth slightly open. Then, without a word, he shoved his duvet aside and patted the mattress beside him.
‘Get in,’ he said, ‘before you combust.’
She clambered into the bed, waving the phone under his nose like an excitable puppy.
Theo pulled the duvet up and around them, then took the phone from her. But he didn’t look at the screen. Instead, his gaze stayed on her face, his expression struggling between disbelief, concern, and the dawning sense that whatever she’d uncovered was genuinely monumental.
