Sarah was quiet for a long moment, tears forming in her eyes. “I’ve been starting to wonder if I made a mistake. If I should have kept quiet, kept my job…”
“Did you make a mistake?” Harper asked gently.
“No,” Sarah said immediately. “Charles was hurting people. Real people who needed help. Children who needed medical care, communities that needed clean water. I couldn’t live with staying silent.”
“Then you have your answer.” Harper reached across the table to squeeze Sarah’s hand. “And you have an opportunity to keep helping people, but in a position where your ethics are an asset, not a liability.”
Sarah smiled—the first genuine smile Harper had seen from her. “Harper, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t need to,” Harper said. “Good people shouldn’t have to suffer for doing the right thing. Not if I can help it.”
As they parted ways outside the café, Sarah turned back to Harper.
“You know what Charles used to say? That everyone had a price. That given enough pressure or enough money, anyone would compromise their principles.”
“And?”
“He was wrong,” Sarah said simply. “Some things can’t be bought. And some people won’t be silenced.”
Harper watched her walk away, shoulders straighter than when she’d arrived, and felt something settle in her chest. Justice wasn’t just about punishment—it was also about making sure the brave were rewarded.
She pulled out her phone and texted Ethan.
Harper:Talked to Sarah. She’s perfect for Jonathan’s job. Thank you for your help finding something.
The response came immediately.
Ethan:Good people deserve good things. Besides, someone has to help you keep the world’s conscience in working order.
Harper smiled as she headed home, thinking about Sarah’s new beginning and the way good people had a habit of landing on their feet when other good people were looking out for them.
It was exactly the kind of ending Charles Hawthorne would never have understood—and exactly the kind of world Harper wanted to help build through her reporting.
40
Meet the Jet Set
The long drive up the private road to the country estate was all winding stone walls, manicured hedges, and the kind of discreet opulence that whispered money rather than screamed it. Two evenings before the wedding, Emilia adjusted her sunglasses as the car crested the hill, revealing the centuries-old estate in full view—impossibly grand and nestled in a sea of green.
Harper whistled low. “Subtle. It’s givingBridgerton, but make it modern… and tax-sheltered.”
At the top of the grand stone steps, Alexander stood waiting with the kind of posture that only came from years of training. He looked every inch the heir—the tailored jacket, the relaxed confidence, the sense that he’d always belonged to places like this.
Sebastian, by contrast, was leaning against a balustrade like a man who’d just strolled in from his yacht. Linen shirt, sunglasses, and a grin that suggested he found the whole thing hilarious.
“Ladies,” he said with a theatrical bow. “Welcome to the lions’ den.”
“You make that sound like a threat,” Harper replied.
“Just a warning. The jet set are in peak form today,” Sebastian quipped with a grin.
Alexander descended the steps and kissed Emilia on the cheek. “Ignore him. It’s perfectly civilized.” Emilia smiled and took Alexander’s arm.
“That’s what the Romans said at the Coliseum,” Harper muttered. Sebastian fell in to step next to her as she reached the top of the stairs.
The grand entryway opened into a sunlit terrace where champagne flutes sparkled and laughter echoed. As they stepped outside, Alexander raised a hand. “Everyone,” he said, a warm smile in his voice. “Allow me to introduce Emilia, my fiancée, and her best friend and maid of honor, Harper.”
The group smiled and murmured greetings, champagne glasses pausing mid-sip as curious eyes assessed the newcomers.