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It turned out that most of the post-nuptial agreement—which sounded like a stupid name to Helena, but was apparently what the thing was called—was pretty boring. Flynn and Henry had already been through the document and updated the original to reflect the slight change in wedding plans. Helena found some comfort in knowing that these were things that Thea had agreed to, even agreed with. It made nodding along as Henry talked her through it much easier.
Their finances, the business; that was all straightforward in the end—the lengthy negotiations between Thea, Flynn and their fathers had already hammered all that out. So the contract mostly came down to the relationship between her and Flynn.
That part, at least, she understood.
‘So, you’re both still happy to live in the London townhouse we arranged, right?’ Henry asked, and Helena nodded. ‘Great. Next up, charitable and social obligations.’
Helena sighed. She really should have just stayed in bed. Flynn would have come and found her eventually.
When they reached the part about sexual relations, Flynn stared at the ceiling and Helena couldn’t help but laugh.
‘I’m guessing we can strike the part about negotiating the initiation of sexual relations in one year’s time?’ Henry asked, clearly unable to hide the amusement in his voice.
‘Yeah, I think that ship has pretty much sailed,’ Helena said with a grin.
‘It was a stupid clause anyway,’ Flynn added, his gaze still focused on the ceiling.
‘Okay, then. In that case, the next bit is the declarations,’ Henry said, scrolling down to the next page.
‘Like the sickness and health part of the wedding?’ Helena asked.
‘Not exactly. Basically, we just need you to sign this section to say that you’ve never been married before, are not in a partnership with anyone else at this time, that you don’t have any children by a previous relationship—things that would affect your finances or inheritances mostly.’
Helena’s whole body trembled as if she had no control over it. She couldn’t speak—every word she thought of stuck in her throat. Her skin burned as if she’d stepped too close to the fire—and maybe she had, in a way.
She’d known last night that she had to tell Flynn about her daughter, but not like this. Not now and not here, not with Henry listening in.
Not when everything was finally going so well.
‘Helena? What’s wrong?’ Flynn was at her side now—when had he even moved? He took her hand, squeezing it gently, and Helena wanted nothing more than to cling on to it and never, ever let go. She’d come so close to getting everything she’d ever wanted.
And now one mistake from eight years ago was going to wreck it all.
In her mind, the film of the night she’d told Thea ran over and over. Her sister’s tears, followed by her father’s shouts. The ugly accusations, the hatred. And then the pity in Isabella’s expression when she’d arrived, as she always did, to support Thomas above all else. Not just pity, though. A sense of inevitability, as if they’d all known Helena would screw up irrevocably in the end; it had only been a matter of time.
Thea was the only one who’d listened, who’d understood what had really happened that night. And their father had just blamed her for letting Helena out that night at all. As if Thea were more to blame than Helena, and Helena more to blame than the boys who—she stopped that thought. She couldn’t relive that. Not now.
Instead, she remembered the coldness in her father’s eyes as he’d told her they would fix this. That she would do exactly as she was told. He and Isabella had a plan and she would follow it to the letter. And, if she did, she could come home and live her normal life again. Afterwards.
As if she could ever be the same, after.
‘Do you want me to call for someone?’ Henry asked, sounding concerned. ‘Get some water or something?’
‘Yeah, there should be someone in the kitchen.’ Flynn placed the back of his hand against her forehead. ‘Helena, talk to me. What is it? Are you feeling faint? I should have got you a proper breakfast. Let me ask Henry to—’
‘No.’ She couldn’t take it any more. She couldn’t let him carry on being so kind to her, not when he didn’t know the truth. ‘I don’t need anything. But I can’t...’ She stumbled over the words as she tried to get to her feet. Her legs felt too weak to support her body, but she forced them to move, to take her away from here. ‘I can’t sign this.’
And then she ran, the image of Flynn’s horrified face imprinted on her memory.
* * *
Okay, this...? This was not the plan.
Flynn stared after his wife as Helena stumbled out of the study and raced up the stairs. From the doorway, he could just about see the way she clung to the banister as she climbed, that stupid satin nightgown flapping around her legs.
‘What happened?’ Henry asked, striding across the hallway with a glass of water in his hand.
‘I have no idea,’ Flynn replied, gaze still locked on the now empty staircase. ‘But I’m going to find out. Stay here.’
They had an agreement, he fumed silently as he took the stairs two at a time. They’d talked about everything, he’d opened up to her in ways he’d never imagined he’d be able to with anyone. He’d married her! He’d given her that blasted ring and taken her to bed. He’d let her in, let himself hope, believe that he could have the future he’d dreamed of. That he was enough for her...and now? Now she said she couldn’t sign.
No. That wasn’t the way this plan went at all.
He thumped his fist against the wood of the bridal suite door, but didn’t wait for her to tell him to come in. She had to know he’d follow, had to know he’d need an explanation.
‘Flynn, I...I’m sorry.’ She looked so small curled up on the bed, her knees under her chin and her arms wrapped tightly around them.
‘Then come downstairs and sign the agreement.’ Maybe this was just last-minute nerves. Some fear of paperwork he didn’t fully understand.
But Helena shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’
‘I don’t want apologies. I want reasons.’ He hadn’t even moved from the doorway, he realised. There was no point staying if she wouldn’t explain. He wasn’t sure, but he thought his grip on the door handle might be the only thing keeping him upright while he waited for her answer.
‘I can’t sign it because it’s not true. The declarations.’
Flynn blinked at her, his mind foggy with incomprehension. ‘What? You’re already married?’ She shook her head. ‘You’re in love with someone else?’ Both sisters? Surely that was too cruel a joke for the universe to play, even on him.
‘No. Not that.’ Her words came out almost as a croak. As if her throat didn’t want to let them leave.
And then her meaning sank in, and he wished he’d never heard her at all.
‘You have a child.’ There was no emotion in his voice, he realised, because it was all swirling inside him. Every possible negative feeling—betrayal, horror, pain and everything in between—ran through his blood, his muscles, his organs, causing them to seize up and scream in silent pain. ‘Where is it now?’
It. He’d married the woman and he didn’t know she had a child—and even now he could only call the poor thing ‘it’ because he didn’t know enough to know if it was a girl or a boy.
‘She was adopted,’ Helena whispered, and every single drop of those awful emotions prepared to come tumbling out of him.
‘You gave her away.’ He couldn’t look away, couldn’t focus on anything except her face. He’d thought that she’d let him in, thought they were planning a life together. When all the time she’d been holding back, keeping him at a distance as he’d tumbled headfirst into love with her. His plan wasn’t hers, and never would be.
‘It was a mistake. I was sixteen and I wa
s so, so scared.’ Her words were tumbling out over each other, but he was barely listening. He was still trying to make sense of this horrific reality he now found himself in. One where the woman he loved was a woman who lied, who left people behind. And to think he’d believed her when she’d promised she’d stay, that they could have a life together. He was an idiot. After thirty long years, didn’t he know better than to believe any person who said they’d take him into their heart, love him and keep him as their own?
‘When I told Thea—’
