“H-how is that possible?” she whispered.
Evander smirked, for the first time looking truly like his old self.
“I had my man filch it for me,” he murmured. “He brought it to me. My uncle and I were not close as adults, but when I was younger, when his brother and my father were still alive, we spent much time together. I know that man’s signature and Caroline, it is obvious that the document is forged.”
“There is more,” Evander continued before Caroline could ask any more questions. “My men are still digging, but it seems that your stepmother has been using your father’s money—money that I am sure he wanted for you—to participate in some rather nefarious business deals.”
Caroline’s breath slammed out of her chest as she heard the rest of the news. She had always believed her stepmother was a harsh person, but all of this—all of the extent she had gone to take from Caroline, from her father’s good name?
She tightened her free hand into a fist, feeling a tremble of rage move through her head all the way down to her toes.
“Thank you, Evander,” she seethed out, forcing her newly determined gaze up to him. “For telling me the truth.”
“It needed to be done,” Evander stated gravely.
“My dear old friend,” Damien rasped, and Caroline turned to him to see pride glimmering in his eyes for Evander. “Even when you are down, you still somehow manage to be the hero.”
Evander let out a bitter laugh.
“There is nothing heroic about my way of life,” he muttered, the cane in his hand beginning to creak from how tightly he was holding it.
“Evander, do not say such things,” Caroline pleaded, but as she reached her free hand toward his arm, he took a step back and shook his head.
“I need to be going,” he said hastily. “As I said, I enjoyed our time together, but being back in London is too much for me right now.”
“Go,” Damien gently insisted. “Take all the time you need. We have to pay Agatha a little visit.”
Epilogue
“You cannot just barge in here!” the butler demanded.
Damien and Caroline ignored the man as they stormed through the foyer of the Mason Estate and headed toward Agatha’s study. Caroline was leading the charge now; her head held high, her spine straight, and her footsteps sure. Pride billowed in Damien’s chest as he watched her take control of her life and not run away from it. He would be there to help her if she needed it. Until then, he was simply happy to watch her have her glory.
Then suddenly the butler ran ahead of him and stretched out his arm toward Caroline. In a second, Damien was there, snatching the man’s wrist and wrenching it backward.
“Do not touch her.” His tone was soft. Deadly. Almost welcoming the man to disobey him. The butler’s eyes widened as he paled.
“You should go,” Damien suggested, leaning toward the butler’s face. “Pack your things. Something tells me that you are about to lose your job.”
He shoved the butler away from him and did not wait to see what he did, instead moving in quick steps to catch up to Caroline, who had just shoved open the study door with so much force that it ricocheted into the opposite wall.
Damien entered just as Agatha was rising from her seat, her face twisted into an ugly mask of rage. Still, it was not her face he was focused on. It was another woman’s. The one who had been sitting across from Agatha before Caroline stormed in.
“You,” he whispered, taking in the familiar features.
The memories of the day George was brought to him flashed vividly in his mind, and suddenly he knew.Thiswas the woman who had brought George to him, claiming that he was his son.
“How dare y—”
“Sit. Down. Agatha,”Caroline demanded, punctuating each word.
Rage ebbed from the two women glaring at one another as the room fell silent; neither one was willing to back down. Questions about the third woman erupted by the dozens in Damien’s mind, but he pushed them aside. He would get his answers from her soon enough, but for now, he was going to help his wife take her power back.
He tore his gaze away from the third woman and strode around Agatha’s desk. He placed two fingers on her shoulder and reveled in the way she tried to flinch away from him.
Youshouldbe scared,he thought devilishly.
“My wife has asked you to sit,” he said calmly, applying the slightest pressure to Agatha’s shoulder. Already she was trembling under the small weight, trying to fight it. “I suggestyou do so.”
