Two lovers, torn apart by betrayal, obsession and an unquenchable thirst for revenge.
How far would you go for love?
About to start the career of his dreams and marry the woman he loves, Sebastien Merrow has everything he could ever want, until a b...
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Horace Merrow's study may have been tucked away in a small, gloomy room at the back of the house, its furniture old, worn and mismatched, and the shelves stuffed with so many books and case files he could never find what he was looking for, but it was still his favorite place in the world.
Its main window faced east, and there was nothing Horace liked more than to sit at his desk with a file on his lap watching the sunrise. It was, of course, ever so slightly less appealing after a late night at the office, but Horace would still not pass up the quiet hour sitting in his chair, watching the sky move from deep indigo to the most delicate of pinks as he pondered the intricacies of his court strategy. Besides, as his father used to say, he could sleep when he was dead.
The first golden rays of the sun were breaking through the horizon when his son Sebastien knocked on the open door of his study. Horace glanced over his shoulder at him as Sebastien stood in the doorway, a backpack slung over one shoulder. "You're off already?" He had been planning on having breakfast with his son before he left for Havana, but had completely forgotten. This case was swallowing him whole.
"Yes, just waiting for the car to come round." Sebastien walked into the study and took a seat in one of the dark red leather armchairs by the unlit fireplace, placing his backpack at his feet. Horace could tell something was troubling his son by the way he was pressing his lips together and keeping his gaze on the floor. Horace felt a pang of guilt.
"I'm sorry I missed breakfast." He stood up from his desk and crossed the room towards Sebastien. "I really wanted to spend your last morning home with you, but this case-"
"It's okay." Sebastien waved his father's apology away. "I know how busy this has kept you lately."
Horace took a seat in the armchair in front of him, curious as to what else could be bothering his son.
"Dad, I need to talk to you about it." Sebastien sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "This case you're working on." Horace was about to protest, but he had barely taken in a breath when Sebastien held up a hand to stop him. "I've heard the rumors. I've read the papers. These accusations are serious. If you're wrong, it could..."Sebastien faltered. He rubbed a hand across his face, undoubtedly considering his next words. "I just need to know that you're sure about this. Really sure."
"What do you mean?" Horace sat back in the armchair. Had Albert gotten to him? Had he already managed to turn Sebastien against Horace on this?
"I'm worried about Rodrick," Sebastien said, and Horace's shoulders relaxed. Sebastien hadn't been compromised, he was just worried about his friend, and with good reason, Horace thought. This wouldn't be an easy situation for the young Lacroix boy to navigate.
"A scandal like this is going to destroy him. I just need you to promise me this isn't a witch hunt. I need you to promise me that if you're going to go after his father, it's because you believe without a doubt it's the right thing to do."
