She had hoped that Ari would break the news to Kit himself, but there was so much to explain . . .

She watched his expression as she told him what she knew: Julian’s family’s business troubles, their scorched earth plan, the ambush outside the restaurant, Amy’s allegations timed to coincide with the press gathered outside the casino . . . Outwardly, he scarcely reacted. He stood still, breathing deeply and slowly as he listened. She saw him swallow at the particularly pertinent moments, he was blinking more rapidly than usual, but other than that, no one would have known he was hearing anything more than the weather forecast. She tried to imagine his face as he’d walked in on Amy and Cory . . .

‘Is that it?’ he asked finally.

She nodded, wishing the lift was smaller, that he would reach an arm towards her, catch her with his gaze, that he would say again the things he had said to her in the dark.

Instead, he leaned back against the far corner, his head tipped as he stared at the ceiling, absorbing the extent of Julian’s manipulations.

Finally, he looked back at her. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’

‘Thanks—? That’s it?’

‘What is there to say? It was a business strategy.’ He shrugged. ‘Good luck to him.’

She stared at him, open-mouthed. His response was exactly as it had been the night of Amy’s allegations too. He was Teflon-plated; bullet-proof. ‘Kit, this isn’t okay. What he’s done to you . . . It’s awful.’

His gaze slid across to her. ‘I’ve had worse.’

She stared at him, seeing how he just absorbed the shock, the pain and moved on, never missing a step. He would take this betrayal and turn it into the will to win, just as he had after the split from his father, then his father’s death, in the year after Cory’s accident, he would keep driving onwards. Unstoppable. Uncatchable. Invulnerable now . . . No one could hurt him. No one could get close anymore. Amy had taught him – and she had too, in her own small way – that he could trust no one.

He reached forward and released the stop button. The lift lurched again, rolling upwards.

She wanted to tell him she knew about all of it, everything that had been hidden: Cory and Amy; what he’d done for Mia and the boys; the lies that had been endured as a secret kindness . . . But she would be doing it for herself. What did he care if she knew now he wasn’t a monster? The damage had been done.

The number four appeared on the digital display. The doors slid open and she reluctantly stepped out.

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, turning back to him.

‘You know what they say: success is the best revenge.’

She hesitated. ‘. . . Isn’t it happiness? . . . Happiness is the best revenge?’

He looked bemused. ‘Success is happiness.’