Chapter 16
Reinforcements
Tara
“You're right, Lyn, Laurent needs to be the one presenting this to Father, not you.” Max’s voice is steady through the zoom call.
Cam's arm tightens around me where we're curled together on his couch, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my shoulder. Even through a screen, I’m sure my brothers can see exactly how he's holding me—protective, possessive, completely unashamed.
"No problem," Laurent leans in, his sharp suit immaculate even on a weekend call. "Once you send us those financial records you traced, I’ll put them in front of Father, and Lucien loses any claim to legitimacy.”
I lean into Cam's warmth, drawing strength from his steady heartbeat against my back.
‘Let your brothers dismantle him. We’ll hold the line out here.” Cam speaks for the first time since the zoom call started thirty minutes ago.
“Ah! Finally, the elep… I mean muscle on the call speaks!” Max’s face crinkles into a grin.
Cam’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Muscle, sure. But don’t mistake me for decoration—I’m here to protect what’s mine.”
“Preach it!’ Max’s sudden outburst of ghetto swagger is so over the top I lose it, laughing until Cam’s hand slides over my hip to settle me.
“Lyn, you didn’t mention your… live-in bodyguard is a legend.” Max exclaims.
Laurent blinks. “I’m not much of a sports person.. so this is really Cameron ‘Seoul-Crusher’ Wilder? And he’s giving us tactical advice?”
Heat rushes up my neck. “He’s not just my—”
“Bodyguard, protector, and lover,” Cam cuts in smoothly, flexing his bicep like a total menace. “And these days? Dane-gerous. Seems a better fit for taking on Lucien.”
Max bursts out laughing. Even Laurent nearly smiles. “He’s right,” Laurent admits.
“Careful,” Max teases. “You’ll start liking him.”
Cam deadpans, “Too late. Everyone does.”
I elbow him, but my chest eases at how effortlessly he claims me—even in front of my high-profile brothers.
Then Max’s grin fades. “If you want Cedar Falls safe, they need to know the truth. Before Lucien twists it. You have to tell them who you really are and what’s coming. The stakes only get higher if they’re all in the dark.”
My stomach clenches. The moment I've been dreading—Cedar Falls learning who I really am.
"The town deserves to know," I whisper as my stomach knots. The moment I’ve dreaded—the town I love most learning the secret I’ve fought hardest to hide. They deserve honesty. But how do I make them see it never my intention to deceive?
The call ends with promises—Laurent and Max handling Julien, us holding Cedar Falls. As the screen goes dark, I sag against Cam’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “For dragging you into this mess, for lying, for—”
“Stop.” His hands rubs my neck. “You didn’t lie. Tara, Taralyn—same heart. Cedar Falls will get behind you, love.”
I kiss him hard, pouring years of fear and loneliness into his mouth. He tastes like coffee and home, certainty and heat, and it unravels me.
Cam doesn’t stay still—he never does. One big hand cups the back of my neck, angling me deeper, the other sliding down to grip my thigh and drag me across his lap. My breasts crush against his chest, the friction delicious, and when his thumb brushes the swell of one, my gasp breaks the kiss.
“Mmm…” His mouth claims mine again, hungrier this time. His palm squeezes my ass, grinding me against the thick outline of his cock straining against the cotton of his sweats.
For half a second, my brain sputters—a good round of sex would be the perfect distraction from homicidal cousin and family secrets. It’s reckless, ridiculous, and exactly what my body is voting for.
When we finally surface for air, I’m flushed, straddling him, lips swollen, his eyes gone dark.
“Not that I’m complaining about this gratitude,” he rasps, voice gravel and heat, “but we should call my parents before I forget how to speak.”
Twenty minutes later, I'm listening to Hana Wilder cheerfully rearrange her entire business schedule while Cam loads their bags into my car.
"You think I'm leaving when evil men are sneaking into kitchens and ruining good pots of gamjatang?" she declares. "Please. I'll start cooking for an army."
"Mom, you don't need to—" Cam starts.
"Cameron." Her voice carries that particular maternal authority that transcends cultures. "My future daughter-in-law is threatened. I am making bulgogi, and some banchan.”
Future daughter-in-law. The words spark straight through me, warm and dizzying. Cam’s hand brushes mine on the trunk latch, deliberate, his thumb grazing like a secret promise. My pulse stutters.
"Listen to your mom," Erik's voice adds, dry as dust, “it’s good to fight with a full stomach. And mom’s cooking is the best…’
"But Dad," Luke mutters, half-grudging. “Still doesn’t mean Cam should push himself.”
"Luke," Cam interrupts, grinning at me. "I love you, but shut up."
An hour later, the men are hauling suitcases upstairs while Hana surveys Lily’s communal kitchen like a general eyeing the battlefield.
"This'll work," she announces, rolling up her sleeves. "Tara, darling, what does your friend Lily think about me commandeering her commercial space?"
"I think," Lily says, appearing in the doorway with baby Linden on her hip, "that having a professional cook take over sounds like heaven. Welcome to Cedar Falls chaos, Mrs. Wilder."
“Auntie Hana,” she beams, already pulling spices from the fridge and her tote like a magician. “And this isn’t chaos. It’s strategy. Feed everyone, then we fight.”
Cam appears behind me, arms circling my waist. "Every family crisis ends with food," he breathes against my ear. "By dessert, we'll be plotting coups"
Before I can melt into him, the loft door bangs open and Levi strides in with Karla and Scott. Everyone’s talking over each other—security, timing, who’s watching the doors—until Karla lifts a hand.
"Wait. How exactly are we getting the whole town together here at the Lofts, without looking suspicious?"
"How about a birthday party?" Lily suggests. "Yours, Karla. After Candy Jar closes.”
Karla grins, her organizational brain clearly spinning. "Finally, my fake birthday is good for something other than free dessert."
"We'll make it believable," Lily continues. "Just don't let Scott sing, or we'll blow our cover."
"Hey!" Scott protests. "My voice is an asset to this community."
"It's an asset to something," Levi mutters, earning a swat from his wife.
The casual intimacy of it—him holding me while his mother cooks, his brother argues with his father about security protocols, Lily bouncing her baby while coordinating logistics—makes my throat tight with unexpected emotion.
"Hey." His lips brush my temple. "You okay?"
I catch Cam's eye and see my own thoughts reflected there—this ridiculous, wonderful group of people are about to risk their peaceful lives to protect me. The weight of it should crush me, but instead it fills me with something I’ve never felt.
Belonging.
“If Karla brings a pinata,” he whispers, wicked against my ear, “we’re doomed.”
I dissolve into giggles against his chest, and for a moment—wrapped in chaos, food, and love—I let myself believe we just might win.
Four hours later, the commercial kitchen behind Candy Jar buzzes with the controlled energy of Cedar Falls' inner circle pretending to celebrate Karla's birthday.
The fake festivities are almost too convincing—someone actually brought balloons. There’s also Mrs. Henderson’s infamous bourbon cake, and Scott managed to sneak in a small karaoke setup despite explicit instructions not to.
I stand near the back of the room, Cam's hand warm and steady in mine, watching the faces of people who've become my family over the past year and a half. My heart hammers against my ribs as I prepare to destroy the careful fiction I've built.
"Ready?" Cam squeezes my fingers.
"No." I squeeze back. "But I’ll do it anyway."
Karla taps her fork against her wine glass, her birthday tiara slightly askew. "Alright, people, gather round. We only throw covert birthdays for people we like, and apparently we like Tara enough to let her crash my party."
Gentle laughter ripples through the room. Scott calls out, "Say the word and I'll 'accidentally' block the street with a fire truck!"
"Hypothetically speaking," Chief Alvarez adds dryly, "we do not condone Scott's hypotheticals."
I take a shaky breath and step forward. No more hiding. No more lies.
"Friends." I begin, my voice carrying clearly in the suddenly quiet room, "I’m not Tara Haynes. My name is Taralyn Delacroix."
The silence that follows is absolute. I watch recognition dawn on several faces—the Delacroix name carries weight, even in small-town Colorado.
"I ran away from my family three years ago because I didn’t want to live in that oppressing shadow any more. I came here because I wanted to be just Tara, just your waitress, just normal." My voice cracks slightly. "But my past followed me, and now it's threatening all of you.”
“For starters, the fire at my house, it wasn’t Cam’s PCS acting up. He’s only guilty of being sweet. The fire was set by my cousin, Lucien."
From near the dessert table, Mabel Bello, tiny but unshakable in her cardigan, clears her throat.
“Honey, I don’t care if your last name’s Delacroix, Rockefeller, or Santa Claus.
You’re the girl who shovels my driveway before I even wake up.
” She points her fork like a gavel. “That’s who you are here. ”
A laugh ripples through the tension.
“But I am a Delacroix,” I whisper, the name tasting foreign after months of burial. “Billionaires. Corporate dynasty. Everything you probably hate—only I walked away from all of it. I want nothing to do with them.”
Tomás Gutierrez, the high school music teacher, raises his soda. “You brought my choir donuts after their winter concerts. That counts more than bank accounts.”