Chapter 15 - Sloane Finds OutSloane Harrington learned the truth from a gossip site.
Not from her father.
Not from Nolan.
Not from a lawyer.
A headline appeared while she sat alone in her bedroom with yesterday’s mascara still under her eyes.
SOCIALITE WHO TORE DRESS MAY HAVE HUMILIATED SECRET HALF-SISTER.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then she screamed.
Downstairs, Charles Harrington was in his study arguing with attorneys when Sloane burst in.
“Is it true?”
Charles did not look up.
“Close the door.”
“Is it true?”
His lawyers went silent.
Charles removed his glasses.
“Sloane—”
She picked up a framed family photograph and threw it against the wall.
“Is Clara your daughter?”
The silence answered.
Sloane staggered backward as if struck.
“Oh my God.”
Charles stood.
“Do not be theatrical.”
She laughed.
“Theatrical? I tore her dress in front of half the city because Nolan told me she was some nobody trying to ruin us, and you knew she was—”
“She is nothing to us.”
Sloane flinched.
That sentence did what the scandal had not.
It showed her exactly who her father was.
Nothing to us.
A woman he had created.
A woman he had abandoned.
A woman his legitimate daughter had publicly degraded while he watched the consequences like a lawyer reviewing weather.
“You knew at the gala,” Sloane whispered.
Charles said nothing.
“You knew when I called her a waitress.”
Still nothing.
Sloane’s eyes filled.
“And you let me.”
Charles’s face hardened.
“You embarrassed this family.”
“No,” Sloane said. “You made this family embarrassing.”
He slapped her.
The room froze.
Charles had never hit her before.
He had insulted, controlled, dismissed, and purchased obedience, but he had never put a hand on her.
Sloane touched her cheek.
Then something in her changed.
She stood straighter.
The spoiled woman who had torn a dress because cruelty came easily did not vanish. But another woman stepped forward beside her. One who finally understood what being treated as disposable felt like.
Charles pointed at the door.
“Get out before I say something worse.”
Sloane picked up her phone.
Charles narrowed his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Clara.”
He laughed.
“You think she wants to hear from you?”
“No,” Sloane said. “But she needs to.”
Clara answered on the fourth ring.
Her voice was guarded.
“What do you want?”
Sloane closed her eyes.
“I know.”
Silence.
Sloane swallowed.
“I know what he is.”
Clara said nothing.
“I know it doesn’t erase what I did. I know saying sorry isn’t enough. But Nolan has a storage unit. He keeps backups there. Contracts. Videos. Things he uses to control people.”
Clara’s voice changed.
“Where?”
Sloane looked at her father.
Charles took one step toward her.
Sloane spoke quickly.
“South Loop. A private facility under Bell Strategic Consulting. Unit 418.”
Charles lunged.
Sloane ran.
She made it as far as the foyer before security blocked the front door.
Her father came down the stairs slowly.
“Sloane,” he said. “Give me the phone.”
She held it tighter.
Clara was still on the line.
Sloane lifted the phone to her mouth.
“Clara?”
“Yes.”
Sloane looked at the guards.
Then at her father.
For the first time in her life, she chose a side that cost her something.
“Send Dominic.”
Charles ripped the phone from her hand and smashed it against the marble floor.
But the line had already gone dead.
Across the city, Dominic Raines reached for his coat.
Clara stopped him.
“No.”
He stared.
“She asked for me.”
“She asked for Dominic because everyone asks for the weapon.”
May you like
Clara picked up her own coat.
“This time, she gets her sister.”
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