Chapter 28 #2
The housekeeper appears to clear the soup and serve the main course—perfectly seared scallops with risotto. The brief interruption does nothing to dispel the tension that’s now thick enough to cut with a knife.
"And now you're seeing both my brother and Julian," Kate continues once we're alone again. "That's certainly... progressive."
Camille sets her fork down carefully. "I know it's unconventional."
"That's one word for it," Kate agrees. "I can think of several others."
"Kate," I warn. "This isn't why I brought Camille to meet you."
"No? Why did you bring her then?" Kate's gaze is unapologetic. "So I could fawn over her and pretend this situation isn't bizarre? Two men sharing one woman—it's like something from a bad reality TV show."
Julian's jaw tightens. "With all due respect, Kate, our relationship isn't anyone else’s business."
"It becomes my business when it affects my brother's reputation." She turns back to Camille. "Do you have any idea the whispers going around? The assumptions people are making about what kind of woman would entertain this type of arrangement?"
Camille pales, but her voice remains steady. "I imagine people will always talk when they don't understand something. That doesn't mean we should let it dictate our choices."
"Noble sentiment," Kate says. "But naive. In our world, perception is reality."
"Our world," I repeat, hearing the anger creeping into my voice. "Camille is part of that world now, Kate. Part of my world."
Kate studies me for a long moment. "Is she? For how long? Until she gets bored? Or until you and Julian get tired of sharing?"
"That's enough." Julian's voice cuts through the tension. "Camille isn't some passing entertainment. She's important to both of us."
"And the arrangement?" Kate presses. "Is that important too? Or would either of you prefer exclusivity?"
The question lands like a grenade. It's something we haven't fully discussed—the future implications of our current situation. What happens if one of us wants more? What happens if the balance shifts?
Under the table, I feel Camille's hand find mine, her fingers cold but steady. "We're figuring things out as we go," she says quietly. "Like any relationship."
Kate leans back, studying Camille with new interest. "Except most relationships don't involve three people and a ticking PR time bomb."
"Maybe they should," Julian says, his easy charm returning as he reaches for his wine. "Might solve a lot of problems."
His attempt at humor falls flat. Kate shakes her head, turning her attention back to me. "What would Dad think of this, Tris?"
The question hits hard. Our father—traditional, unyielding, with specific ideas about how a Vale man should conduct himself—would be horrified. But he's been gone for many years, and I stopped living for his approval long ago.
"Dad isn't here," I say quietly. "And I'm not asking for your approval, Kate. Just your respect."
She sighs, the sound heavy with concern. "I respect you. I just worry."
"You don't need to worry about me," Camille interjects. "I care about Tristan. And Julian. This isn't a game to me."
"Perhaps not intentionally," Kate concedes, her gaze sharpening. "But tell me honestly—what exactly are you looking for in this arrangement? Security? Status? Or is it the thrill of having two powerful men at your beck and call?"
I feel Camille stiffen beside me and I open my mouth to intervene, but Julian beats me to it.
"For fuck's sake, Kate," he says, all pretense of politeness gone. "Is this an inquisition or a dinner?"
"I'm simply trying to understand—"
"No," Julian cuts her off. "You're trying to find fault. You've already decided what kind of person Camille is without bothering to get to know her."
The silence that follows is broken only by the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. Kate's expression remains impassive, but I know her well enough to see the flash of genuine concern beneath the harsh exterior. She truly believes she's protecting me.
And maybe part of me understands that. But the larger part just wants this evening to end before more damage is done.
The housekeeper returns to clear our plates, the silence heavy as she works.
Kate's interrogation has created a minefield at the table, and I'm mentally calculating the quickest way to extract us from this disaster of an evening when she asks the question that ignites everything: "So, Camille, I’m wondering about the wine.
Are you just taking a break or is there another reason? "
Camille freezes, her water glass halfway to her lips. I watch the calculation play across her face—whether to lie, deflect, or simply tell the truth. I want to jump in, to shield her from this moment, but I know it's not my place to answer.
"I'm pregnant," Camille says finally.
Kate's expression shifts, surprise quickly masked by something more analytical. Her eyes dart between Julian and me, clearly trying to determine which of us is the father.
"Fourteen weeks along," Camille continues, her voice gaining strength. "And before you ask, no, it's not Tristan's baby. Or Julian's."
"I see," Kate says after a moment, her lawyer's face settling into place. "And the father is...?"
"Not part of the picture," I interject, unwilling to let this interrogation continue.
Julian shifts in his chair. "But he knows about the baby now."
Kate's eyes narrow. "Now? As in, he didn't know before?"
"It's complicated," Camille says, her hands dropping beneath the table.
I reach for Camille's hand under the table, squeezing it gently in silent support. She returns the pressure, a small gesture that feels enormous in the charged atmosphere.
"Complicated," Kate repeats, the word like ice on her tongue. "So you're carrying another man's child while involved with my brother and Julian."
Camille's face pales, but her chin remains lifted.
"Kate, enough," I snap, my patience finally breaking. "You've made your disapproval crystal clear."
"Disapproval?" Kate laughs, the sound sharp and without humor. "I'm trying to understand what kind of situation you've gotten yourself into, Tristan. Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you and Julian are being manipulated by a woman with a very specific agenda."
Julian slams his hand on the table, making the crystal glasses jump. "That's enough."
Kate's gaze shifts to him. "Think about it, Julian. She shows up pregnant with another man's child, and somehow both of you are suddenly involved with her. Don't you think that's convenient timing?"
The accusation hangs in the air, vicious and unfair. I watch Camille absorb the hit, see the tiny flinch she can't quite hide. Every protective instinct in me roars to life.
"You don't know what you're talking about," I say, my voice dangerously quiet. "You don't know her, and you've made no effort to."
"I know enough," Kate counters. "I know she's young, pregnant, and has somehow convinced two billionaires to enter into a relationship that makes all of you look ridiculous. If that's not calculated—"
"Excuse me," Camille interrupts, her voice tight but controlled as she rises from her chair. "I need a moment."
I stand immediately, Julian following suit. "I'll come with you—"
She stops us with a small shake of her head. "No, I just need a minute." Her eyes meet mine, silently asking for understanding. "Please."
The please nearly breaks me. She shouldn't have to beg for basic dignity, for a moment to compose herself after being attacked. But I respect her enough to nod, to let her retreat without an escort like she's requesting.
We watch her leave the room, her back straight, her steps measured. Only when she's gone does Kate have the decency to look slightly uncomfortable.
"Well," she says, tossing her napkin onto the table and standing up. "I should check on dessert. The kitchen staff may need direction."
"Sure," Julian says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The kitchen staff. Not an excuse to escape the situation you created."
Kate gives him a look that would wither most men, but Julian just stares back, unapologetic. She leaves without another word, the click of her heels against the hardwood echoing like punctuation marks.
Julian waits until she's gone before letting out a long breath. "Well," he says, slouching back into his chair. "This is going well."
I rub a hand across my face, suddenly exhausted. "I should have known better than to bring Camille here. Kate in protective mode is not a pretty sight."
"That wasn't protection," Julian counters, reaching for his wine glass. "That was a character assassination."
"She thinks she's looking out for me."
"By treating Camille like she's a con artist? Christ, Tris." He shakes his head. "I've never seen Kate this way."
I haven't either. Kate has always been tough, blunt, sometimes even harsh—but never cruel. The deliberate way she went after Camille's vulnerabilities is way beyond what I thought she was capable of.
"She's scared," I realize aloud. "This arrangement with Camille—it threatens everything Kate thinks she knows about me."
Julian considers this, twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. "Maybe. But that doesn't excuse what just happened."
"No," I agree. "It doesn't."
We sit in silence for a moment. I strain to hear any sound from the hallway, wondering if Camille is okay, if she'll even want to return to the table.
"You know what's ironic?" Julian says finally. "Kate's worried about Camille using us, when all either of us has done since meeting her is try to take care of her."
That’s so true. From the moment we learned about her pregnancy, both Julian and I have been driven by a deep-seated need to protect her—from Alex, from gossip, from the challenges of facing motherhood alone. There's been no manipulation, no agenda. Just a growing connection none of us expected.
"Should one of us check on her?" I ask, glancing toward the doorway.
Julian considers this. "Give her another minute. She asked for space."
He's right, of course, but the urge to go to her is almost overwhelming. I take a slow breath, trying to center myself. "When she comes back, we're leaving. I refuse to continue to subject her to this."
"Agreed." Julian's expression hardens.
As I sit here, waiting for Camille to return, I realize something with startling clarity: the choice between Kate's approval and Camille's well-being isn't a choice at all. I know where I stand. I know who I'm protecting.
And Kate, for all her good intentions, will have to accept that or risk losing me.