Page 110 of Filthy Rich Temptation

‘She found me,’ he whispers.

‘Well,’ Taylor breathes, brushing off her Chanel as she gets to her feet. ‘Look who finally pulled their heads out of their arses.’ She crosses her arms and zeroes in on Theo. ‘Just so we’re clear, I’m thrilled you two have figured things out. Love, healing, happily ever after – big yay. But we’re still going to have words. Because when I said, “watch out for my sister,” I didn’t mean with your penis.’

Theo chokes as I groan.

‘Tay,’ I say, ‘there are little ears about.’

Taylor shrugs, all faux innocence. ‘Just stating facts. And I’m happy for you. I’m also legally obligated to make him sweat a little. Now go make out or whatever. I’ll be in the kitchen opening wine andnotthinking about any of this.’ She turns on her heel, tossing over her shoulder, ‘Though, Theo, you hurt her, there won’t be a third-act reconciliation. There’ll be a shovel.’

He watches her go, wide-eyed, and I smother a laugh.

‘Now you know how I felt growing up. It’s a bit different when she’s related to you, hey?’ I say. ‘Welcome to the family.’

‘Are we a weal family now?’ Lottie says, eyes darting between us, her tiny index finger pointing. ‘Mummy. Daddy. Me.’

My heart stumbles as I meet Theo’s gaze.

‘The realest,’ he says.

And I know, deep in my bones, it’s true.

No more running. No more fear.

Just us. Just love. A family and a home.

20

SADIE

Four Weeks Later…

The lights are hot, the crowd louder than I expected, but I’m standing.

Not hiding.

I grip the edges of the lectern, fingers steady, pulse calmer than I thought possible. My name flashes on the purple screen behind me. Bold white letters.SADIE STONE. NotAnon. Not a ghost.

I wear a lavender dress, its simple design all me, its quiet elegance perfect for today. Gentle yet resolute – a beacon of hope, as the PR team likes to say. My make-up is soft and natural, my hair smooth and loose around my shoulders. No unnecessary embellishments.

Just me.

The auditorium is packed – publishers, journalists, survivors, allies. People who read the blog and whispered, ‘Me too,’ in the dark. But scattered among the strangers are the faces that matter most.

Theo and Taylor, front row, beaming up at me. Rachael and Charlene too, eyes shining with tears and admiration.

Axel, arms crossed and watchful, two of his security team posted discreetly at the back.

Lucile, seated beside a small panel of speakers, nodding at me with quiet encouragement.

And I know Lottie isn’t far away. Theo’s mum is taking her to the park for a special outing because though my daughter will one day learn of this, now is not the time or the place. She’s finally getting to be a child again, and I will cherish every day our freedom brings her.

I breathe it all in slowly, then…

‘My name is Mercedes Stone. Sadie Stone to those who know me well or knew of me before I went into hiding. For the past two years, I’ve been writing anonymously about surviving domestic abuse. I shared my story in pieces because that’s how I lived it: in fragments. Scattered between shame, silence, and the slow reclaiming of myself.’

A hush falls over the room.

‘But today, I’m not hiding any more.’