Chapter 217
Lance’s voice had this easy warmth, a kind of magic that melted away any thoughts of Barnard lingering in Camilla’s mind. For the first time that morning, she actually let herself breathe. Then she glanced at Lance and asked, “Last night… how did I even get here p>
“I should be the one asking you that,” Lance replied, his tone light. “I was just passing by when this little hedgehog crashed straight into my arms, demanding that I bring her home with me. What else could I do, right? I thought I’d better let you rest here p>
Camilla glanced down at her clothes, realizing they were as she’d left them. Only now did everything start to make sense as Lance’s words settled in.
It all came rushing back.
Barnard.
Last night, Barnard had tried his usual dirty tricks on her again. Thankfully, she’d managed to get away before he could do anything. Just knowing that made her heart slow down, the anxiety ebbing away. She looked over at Lance, sitting on that not-so-large sofa that barely fit him. He was tall, almost too much for the tiny couch, but somehow looked every bit as put-together as ever, perched there with that air of quiet confidence.
Sunlight filtered through the window and hit the pendant resting against his chest, casting a shimmer of blue light. For a second, Camilla couldn’t help but stare.
Lance caught her gaze and arched an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “So, Camilla, what do you think counts as inappropriate? What’s your definition p>
“I—” As she started to speak, her eyes lingered for a split second on his mouth, and memories from last night suddenly clicked into place. Her cheeks turned pink, the flush creeping up to her ears. She could feel the awkwardness in every inch of her body.
She didn’t need Lance to jog her memory. She remembered it all on her own: clinging to his arm, telling him how handsome he was and insisting she’d be a perfect girlfriend. Now that she was sober, she wanted nothing more than to disappear.
When she met Lance’s teasing look, she stumbled over her words. “I… thank you for yesterday. I need to go sort a few things out.” Her voice was stiff and quieter than usual.
She fumbled to her feet, barely even noticing the mess of wrinkles on her dress. With her heart thumping and her mind racing, she just needed to get out of there. She grabbed for the door, cracked it open, but before she could step into the hallway, she heard chaos.
Out in the corridor, everything was in uproar. Nurses and doctors rushed past. The cluster of people down the hall stood around a room she recognized all too well—the very one she’d escaped from last night.
The scene in the hallway was a mess. Strangers were gathered in noisy clusters, and someone was franticly asking, “What happened? Why are there so many doctors p>
Another whispered, “You haven’t heard? There’s been huge drama this morning. It’s about the Carters—Barnard, you know? Everyone already knew he dumped Mrs. Carter for the nanny, but now they flaunted it at this party and someone actually got hurt p>
“What? Someone died?” The murmurs rippled through the bystanders, a wave of nervous energy. People even backed away from the door, the tension thick in the air.
A braver voice piped up. “Was it Barnard or the nanny p>
Someone who clearly knew more shook their head. “Neither. It was her baby. The nanny was pregnant, but she lost the baby. What a mess, honestly. Just tragic p>
Reporters began appearing out of nowhere, snapping photos and recording every reaction. Camilla lingered at the back of the crowd, her emotions tangled. Barnard had tried to hurt her, and now he and Davina had caused their own disaster. She didn’t feel bad for them. If anything, she was just annoyed at getting caught up in the storm.
Hoping she could quietly slip away, Camilla shifted back, but a reporter spotted her instantly and rushed over, microphone in hand.
“Mrs. Carter, is it true you and Barnard are divorced? Was his affair with the nanny the reason? What’s your response to all this p>
Camilla wanted to ignore it, but then she caught the way everyone was staring, hungry for her to say something. She paused. She knew very well that Davina only had any power over Calvin and Barnard because of that pregnancy. Now it was gone. If Barnard wanted to cut her loose, nothing would stop him. Camilla’s own divorce wasn’t finalized yet. She couldn’t risk letting Barnard turn things around.
So she squared her shoulders and said, “You’ve been watching all morning, haven’t you? Maybe you should be interviewing the person who actually cheated, not me p>
“So, you and Barnard really are divorced? How do you feel, seeing all this happen?” The reporter pressed, looking for a crack.
Camilla barely blinked. “What do you want me to say? We’re both adults. He has found his true love and I let him go with grace. I hope they’re happy together.” The words came out clear, almost with a shrug.
The reporters wanted fireworks. They wanted tears, a screaming fight. They wanted Camilla to completely lose it for the camera. But Camilla wasn’t giving them any drama at all.
In fact, her calm, almost polite response seemed less angry than the gossip floating from the rest of the crowd.