20. Chapter Twenty #4
There’s a pause. “Camille?”
My throat closes. “Yeah.”
“Oh my god.” A breathy laugh. “You’re alive.”
I exhale hard, smiling. “I am.”
“I…” She pauses, like she’s struggling to find the right words. “We didn’t know. No one did. I kept checking the papers, like something awful was going to show up in a headline.”
“I’m sorry.” My voice cracks. “I didn’t mean to disappear. I just... needed to.”
Another pause. “I get it. I mean, I don’t. But I want to.”
I nod, though she can’t see it. “How are you? How’s everything at home?”
Clara hesitates.
“They don’t talk about you,” she says finally. “Not even once. It’s like you’ve been erased. Mom says it’s too upsetting. Dad just... acts like you never existed.”
My stomach knots.
It’s not unexpected.
But it still stings.
“I figured,” I whisper.
Clara’s voice softens. “They’re them. But I’m not.”
“I know,” I say.
She’s quiet for a moment, then adds, gently, “Are you safe?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m... really okay, Clara. It’s complicated, but I promise I’m safe.”
Another pause.
Then, hesitantly: “Are you still going to be in the wedding? No pressure. I’ll completely understand if…”
“If you still want me there,” I say, cutting her off gently, “I’ll be there. Always.”
She exhales, the relief audible through the line. “Thank you.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” she says, her voice smaller. “And for the record? I’m happy for you. Whatever this is… whoever he is you sound like you finally get to be happy.”
My chest tightens. I blink fast. “Thanks, Clara.”
“Just... be careful, okay?”
“I will.”
We say goodbye softly. No drama. No tears. Just that quiet, steady love that’s always been there. The kind you don’t question. The kind that stays.
***
The call from the twins comes right after breakfast.
Kane’s phone buzzes, and he sighs when he sees who’s calling, but answers anyway.
“Marisol,” he says, voice dry, guarded. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I watch his face carefully from across the kitchen island as he listens, expression shifting from neutral to irritated in seconds.
“No,” he says, flat. “Not happening.”
My brows rise.
He shoots me a glance, then turns slightly away, voice firming up with irritation. “Because I said no.”
I hear Marisol’s voice faintly through the phone, sharp and insistent. Whatever she’s suggesting, she’s clearly pushing hard. Kane’s jaw tightens visibly.
“I don’t give a fuck if Reina thinks it’s a good idea, Marisol,” he says coldly. “She can think whatever the hell she wants. I’m not taking Camille out in public right now.”
My stomach knots. He hasn’t even asked me.
He hasn’t considered my opinion at all.
“I’m done talking about this.” He ends the call abruptly and tosses the phone onto the counter. His eyes flick to mine. “They want to go to some ridiculous carnival tonight. The answer’s no.”
My pulse spikes. “Did you even consider asking me?”
“I don’t need to,” he says simply, moving closer like he expects to placate me with a kiss.
But I’m not placated. I’m pissed.
When he reaches for me, I step back sharply, slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
His eyes narrow dangerously, anger simmering. “Careful, Camille.”
“Or what?” I shoot back, voice shaking. “You’ll keep me locked in here forever? I’m not your pet, Kane. I’m not your plaything.”
His mouth twists coldly. “Aren’t you?”
I freeze. The words land exactly as he intended: hard, precise, cutting deep.
My throat tightens. “Fuck you.”
His expression doesn’t soften, it hardens even more, cold and unfeeling. “You knew exactly what this was. What I am. Don’t pretend to be surprised.”
His voice is ice-cold, merciless. I barely recognize him.
“You’re being cruel,” I whisper, tears burning hot behind my eyes.
“Yes,” he says, unflinching, brutal. “And you’re still mine.”
I choke back a sob and turn away, heart pounding painfully against my ribs as I walk quickly out of the kitchen, refusing to let him see the tears slip down my face.
I don’t look back.
I won’t let him see me break.
Not this time.
I’m curled up alone in a smaller lounge room an hour later, staring blindly out the window, still numb, still aching, when I sense him behind me.
He stands silent, tension radiating off him. He doesn’t speak at first. I won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him either. I just breathe slowly, forcing myself to remain composed, refusing to break the silence.
“I never claimed to be a good man,” he finally says, voice low and gruff, edged with regret he’ll never openly admit. “I warned you from the start.”
I don’t respond. My heart aches, raw and bruised.
Kane steps closer. I don’t turn around, but I feel his presence so close now, warm, dangerous, conflicted.
“You wanted this,” he murmurs, softer now. “Me. All of me. Even the parts that hurt.”
My eyes burn. “Not like this,” I whisper hoarsely.
He exhales roughly, frustration and something else, maybe guilt, bleeding into the silence. Another long pause stretches.
“We’ll go,” he says finally, reluctantly, the concession clearly costing him.
I glance back, eyes still wet, meeting his gaze. His expression is unreadable…guarded, wary…but he doesn’t look away.
“The carnival,” he repeats quietly. “We’ll go.”
It’s not an apology. It never is. But it’s Kane giving in, bending, doing something he clearly doesn’t want because it matters to me.
I swallow hard, brushing tears roughly from my cheeks, and finally nod once.
“Fine,” I whisper, voice still thick with emotion.
Kane steps closer and reaches out carefully, thumb brushing my cheek, tilting my face gently toward his.
“Don’t cry, cielo,” he murmurs, voice rougher than before, softer now, layered with quiet regret. “You’re killing me.”
I close my eyes, letting him pull me slowly back into the heat of him, feeling the shift between us, still broken, still raw, but maybe a little less cruel.
And I hate how even after everything, he’s still the only one who can make me stop hurting, even if he’s the one who caused it in the first place.