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Rupert nodded. ‘Mm . . . jolly good.’

‘So I was thinking,’ I went on, ‘maybe I could do some videos around that? Like cooking on a budget, proper meals for families who don’t have loads of money – that sort of thing.’

He hummed, shifting his weight like he was not convinced.

‘Or even set up something bigger,’ I added, warming to the idea now as I said it out loud. ‘Highlight local charities we could actually help instead of just—’

‘I mean, yes,’ he cut in, sitting up straighter. ‘We could pitch something like that. Brands would probably be into it. TV even.’

I frowned. That wasn’t really what I meant.

‘But we’d have to be careful,’ he added. ‘Not to change your image too much.’

‘My image?’

‘Your audience loves your lifestyle, Harriette,’ he said gently. ‘The luxury, the travel . . . the aspirational side of things. That’s what they follow you for. We don’t want to lose that.’

I let out a small laugh. ‘Aspirational?’

‘Yes! They idolise us,’ he said. ‘You know they do. The perfection of it all.’

‘Aye, well, I think that ship’s sailed, babes,’ I said, snorting.

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he swallowed, his expression tightening. ‘I know what I did was wrong,’ he said. ‘I know that. But I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to them that I’m better than that.’

I blinked at him. ‘To them?’ I let out a sharp breath, sitting up straighter. ‘What about me?’ I said. ‘I’m the one you cheated on, Rupert. Not my fucking followers!’

He flinched. ‘But they’ve taken your side, Harriette. As they should, I suppose. I do realise it wasn’t an ideal look, how it all came out.’

‘Ideal?’ I set my burger down. ‘Rupert, I knew well before the live stream.’

‘What?’ He frowned.

I shifted onto my knees, facing him fully now. ‘I’m not fucking blind,’ I said. ‘I saw it all happening right in front of me – the looks, the way she hovered around you, the way you lit up every time she walked into a room with her smug little face on display!’

His face drained.

‘I noticed everything,’ I said. Feeling it replay in my mind, every touch, every laugh. The anger that pierced through my skin.

He rubbed his forehead, like he could scrub the memory out. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

I took a long sip of champagne, letting it burn on the way down. Because I’d asked myself that same question more times than I could count. ‘I didn’t want you to leave me,’ I admitted. ‘I was afraid you’d pick her. I didn’t want to lose everything. You are not only my husband, but you’re also my brand. I couldn’t risk losing everything, not in front of everyone.’

He let out a breath, shaking his head. ‘I tried to stop it,’ he said. ‘I did. I tried to fix things—’

I shook my head in an echo of him. ‘You had your cake and ate it,’ I cut in. ‘And you only stopped because you were caught!’

Silence.

‘Be honest. Whatever it was between you and her would still be going on if you hadn’t been publicly called out, Rupert,’ I said quietly.

He panicked. ‘I’d have stopped it,’ he protested.

‘You wouldn’t have.’ I shrugged, a regretful smile coming to my face. ‘Be honest with yourself here. C’mon, there are no cameras, no live stream, no them.’

He bit his lip. ‘I have no idea how long it would have carried on, but ultimately I’d have always picked my wife.’

‘Your wife? Me? Or this perfect life you are so keen on portraying – and keeping hold of?’ I asked.