“He wasn’t pleased about the meme,” Sebastian continued, his voice tight. “Or about me helping Alexander.”
“That doesn’t sound like the emergency you made this out to be.”
Sebastian turned to look at her directly. “I told him to go to hell. Then I hung up.”
Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Wow. That’s… bold.”
“I know. I lost it. He said when the truth comes out, everyone will drop me. Then he brought up my mother.”
Harper’s expression hardened. “Of course he did.”
“I just couldn’t let him use her memory like that. Not again.” He exhaled. “But now, Charles is going to hit back. Hard. He’ll paint me as a liar, a manipulator. And he’ll drag anyone he can down with me.”
“So you brought me iced coffee to, what, warn me?”
“Yes, partly. I brought you iced coffee because I care about the investigation,” he said, meeting her gaze directly. “And because you prefer it over hot coffee like a psychopath.”
Harper narrowed her eyes, “And?”
He sighed. “And if details about my past surface—which they will—I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
She stayed silent.
She studied him. Unblinking. “Well I already know that you were running interference for Charles.”
“Yes, but it was worse than that.” Sebastian’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t just Charles’s errand boy. I was his scalpel. I made people bleed in ways that left no fingerprints.” He looked at her directly. “And I was good at it.”
Harper didn’t speak. Her grip on the coffee cup tightened.
“I helped Charles destroy people who stood in his way. Politicians, advisors, even judges.” He hesitated. “I didn’t always fabricate things—just… encouraged the worst to rise to the surface. Sometimes I repeated rumors I shouldn’t have. Sometimes I made sure vulnerable details reached the wrong ears.”
“Give me an example,” Harper said quietly.
He swallowed. “Richard Markham. Former Energy Minister. He was pushing for stricter drilling regulations. I got close to someone on his team, got him to confide in me about Markham’s personal struggles. Then I made sure the right people overheard the right conversations.” A bitter pause. “It spiraled. His marriage imploded. He resigned six months later.”
Harper stood, turning away. One hand came to her forehead like she needed to hold the thoughts in.
“I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” Sebastian said. “But I didn’t think so much about the fallout, I couldn’t. The first time I tried to refuse him, Charles made it clear that wasn’t an option—and that if I wouldn’t handle things his way, he’d find someone who would. Someone with less… finesse.” Sebastian’s voice grew hollow. “So I learned to be efficient. Precise. I told myself limited damage was better than total destruction.”
After a long silence, she turned back. Her face was pale but composed. “How many people?”
“Too many. A judge who ruled against Charles’s development project. Policy advisors, anyone who posed a serious threat really.” His voice cracked slightly.
“And now?” she asked eventually.
“Now I want to stop being the weapon Charles made me into.” He turned toward her, urgent. “That version of me—that isn’t who I want to be anymore.”
She was quiet for a long moment, her fingers gripping the coffee cup so tightly her knuckles were white. She stared at him. “That’s not nothing. But it doesn’t erase what you did.”
“I know.” He swallowed hard.
The silence stretched between them, painful and necessary. Harper’s hands were shaking slightly. “I wonder how many stories never got told because you silenced the people trying to tell them.”
She paused, then looked directly at him. “Like mine.”
Sebastian’s face went pale. “Harper—”
“My investigation into Charles’s land deals. Three years ago. I had sources, documents, everything. And then—silence. My editorstarted doubting me. People stopped answering my calls.” Her voice was sharp and quiet. “You killed that story.”