“Yes?”
I look him straight in the eye. “I wouldn’t do that to a friend.”
He nods in understanding. “I believe you. She didn’t tell anyone else when she told you?”
“No. I was the only one there. It was just the two of us sitting at the bar, no one else could… Oh, my God.”
I gasp as it dawns on me.
Iwasn’tthe only one who heard her story that night. We weren’t alone.
“What?” Jonathan asks anxiously, reading my shocked expression. “What is it?”
“I have to go,” I tell him, grabbing my handbag. “Good luck with everything!”
“Wait, Sophie! Where are you going? Is everything all right?”
But I don’t have time to stop and explain. I’m already out of the door and running back toward the tube.
I push open the heavy door of the Duck with such force that it bangs loudly against the wall, causing the few customers in there to jump and look up at me in confusion.
I march across the pub, more determined than I’ve ever been in my life.
The same guy is lounging around behind the bar. As soon as he looks up and sees my thunderous expression, his eyes grow wide in fear. Good. He should be afraid.
“You!” I yell, jabbing my finger at him, leaning over the bar. “You overheard everything she told me that night. You leaked the story to the press! Didn’t you?Didn’t you?”
He holds up his hands, backing into the bottles lined on the shelf behind him. I’m surprised I have the power to intimidate him in any way, but I go with it.
“I—I—”
“How could you?” I hiss, my cheeks hot with fury. “Do you haveanyidea what you’ve done? Do you know how much hurt and pain you’ve caused?”
I stomp around to flip up the entrance to the bar top, so there’s no barrier between us.
“Now, y-you look here. It’s not my f-fault!” he stutters, hiseyes darting around to the customers, who are curiously watching the drama play out. “She should be more careful! Coming in here and going on about drugs and her ex-boyfriends. Anyone here that night could have told anyone!”
“You aredespicable,” I say, with such venom that he flinches. “If I read one more story in the press about my friend—”
“You can’t threaten me,” he interrupts, putting his hands on his hips in an attempt to look more confident than he feels. A prominent swallow gives him away. “That family can’t touch me. The paper told me so.”
“That family wouldn’t go near you. They’re better than that. And they know you’re not worth it.” I narrow my eyes at him. “But I’m not a Swann.”
He gulps again.
“I know who you are now,” I remind him. “I know the source of these stories. And if one more story about Cordelia Swann—one more story—appears in the media, I’ll knowexactlywho’s to blame.”
To be honest, I’m not sure there’s anything I can actuallydowith the knowledge that he’s the source—but he appears to be worried, which is as much as I can hope for.
“So,” I continue, standing up straight and lifting my chin, “unless you want me to become a very regular customer here at the Duck, I would strongly recommend that you reconsider any future grand plans you may have to spill any other secrets you overhear at this establishment.”
I pause, letting my words sink in. He opens his mouth to speak, then thinks better of it.
“What sort of person sells that kind of story to the press?” I ask accusingly, keeping my volume up to make sure the rest of the pub can hear everything. “You have no idea of the damage you’ve caused, just so you can make a bit of money. Imagine ifsomeone did this to someone you love. You seemed like a nice guy. I amextremelydisappointed in you.”
His eyes fall to the floor.
“You know,” I say, in a softer tone, hoping a gentler delivery will really hit home, “Cordelia is a good person, a strong person. She’ll move on. She’ll forgive herself for what she did. I wonder if you ever will.”
