Page 76 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

Whereas Marcus was older and would inherit pretty much everything, I’d always known I would have to go a different route. Heather Moore and Flower Power had allowed me to do that. As a teenager, I’d rebelled and become a party girl, but I was older now, and it was a relief to stop socialising with people who I knew weren’t real friends. They’d clung to me like needy children, simply because of my connections. They didn’t have the first idea about why I loved plants so much, or know that I was driven by an entrepreneurial spirit. They didn’t care that I was afraid of moths or that I loved true crime podcasts. All they saw was a ticket into the best parties and a chance of getting their photograph in the papers.

I’d said this to Declan on more than one occasion, but he’d just shrugged and said, “Everybody uses everybody else, honey.”

Well, not me.

I hooked a stray hunk of hair behind my ear as I allowed my new perspectives free rein to dance in my head. I looked so different. I felt so different.

And I was glad.

I drained my cup of tea and leant towards my laptop, which was perched on the coffee table in front of me.

I realised that I liked myself. What I’d said in the heat of the moment to Zach was true. I was proud of all I had achieved, and I didn’t regret it. I had learnt how to stand up for myself. I wouldn’t let anyone take advantage of me again – I wouldn’t let them use me. I just wished Zach could see the real me too.

My fingers loitered for a few seconds above the keyboard. Zach’s bitter words kept turning over and over in my head.

What’s he hiding? Why’s he working for Stargazer? It’s possible that the magazine might have headhunted him and dangled a huge pay cheque in front of his eyes, but Zach didn’t seem the type to compromise his beliefs for the sake of cash.

I recalled his genuine anger at the exploitation of staff at the fruit farm he’d been investigating. No. Something wasn’t right.

I typed Zach’s name into the search engine and sat back in my PJs. I’d looked him up before, but decided to do a more thorough examination this time.

Whatever his problem was with me, I hoped he would still continue to help Ezra. I didn’t want him to have to be afraid of his past catching up with him, like I was.

I rubbed my gritty eyes. I was wrung out emotionally.

I shuffled my bottom further forward. Several pictures of Zach emerged, showing him at a couple of newspaper award ceremonies in London and New York, dressed in black tie. He looked so confident and dashing.

Another sharp pain jabbed me in the chest, but I dismissed it.

I tried to bury the festering hurt and moved onto the next page, working my way through the various articles he’d written. They included high-profile court reports and interviews with shady figures in the crime world. I noticed the words Exclusive by Zach Stern appear again and again. It was obvious he was a first-class journalist and thrived on what he did – and that what he did was not celebrity gossip. It was important work. It mattered.

I clicked onto the following page, making my way down reams of articles he’d written. There were more striking photos of him and impressive bylines from a variety of prestigious newspapers. My laptop screen flickered as headline after headline shimmered in front of my eyes.

Then I sat up straighter.

I noticed that Zach’s name was mentioned several times in an email chain on a free speech website. The message exchanges were from a couple of years ago.

I scanned the email chain:

Hi there. I have a potential lead on a land acquisition scam involving local councillors. I’m sure Zach Stern on the London Inquirer would be the go-to journalist for a story like this, but I haven’t seen his byline in the paper recently?

Thanks

Adam S

Hi Adam.

No, you wouldn’t have done. Apparently, Zach Stern no longer works for them.

Betty H

Hi Betty,

Really?! Do you know why? Funny, as I don’t remember seeing anything about his departure in the paper.

Adam S

Good morning, all,