Chapter 252
Camilla glanced down at the papers. It was a contract telling her to withdraw the divorce and announce to the world that she was, and always would be, Mrs. Carter.
Understanding settled in her chest, heavy and inevitable.
Of course.
She should have known.
She almost laughed at herself.
“Is being Mrs. Carter really enough to scare you?” she said softly. “Should I try a different title instead? How about Mrs. Charles p>
Before she could dwell on the ridiculousness of it all, a sarcastic laugh echoed from the doorway.
Harsh sunlight spilled across the battered warehouse floor, and in the middle of that spotlight stood Lance, tall and impossible to ignore.
Even with all that sun, he still looked dark and dangerous. If he’d known just how far these scumbags would go, he never would have listened to Camilla in the first place. He should have stepped up right away, made it clear she was his from the very beginning. Marked his territory and never let anyone doubt it.
He would have listened to her, but only after everyone understood one thing—she belonged to him.
As soon as the group inside heard the commotion, everyone’s faces went tight—nerves, guilt, fear. Neal seemed the most rattled. “Where are the bodyguards? There were bodyguards outside… How did you even get in here?” he muttered.
“You mean those guys?” Lance shifted to the side. Neal’s eyes landed on several bodyguards, all dressed the same, tied up and dumped at the door like yesterday’s trash.
But what really made everyone double-take was the group of policemen standing behind Lance.
Neal could only stare, speechless. Before he could recover, Lance spoke, voice cool and lazy, “You’re all kind of funny. Afraid to mess with Mrs. Carter, but bold enough to go after my Mrs. Charles p>
He didn’t wait for a reply. He walked straight toward Neal, and before Neal could blink, Lance’s foot caught him in the chest, sending him stumbling backward until he crashed to the ground.
“I’ve been alive a long time and I’ve never met anyone as cocky as you. Bones tougher than the rest, huh p>
With that, Lance pinned Neal down, his boot pressing against Neal’s chest, digging in until Neal’s face twisted with pain and he struggled for breath.
Neal’s friends finally snapped out of it. They lunged to pull him away, shouting, “Do you have any idea who you’re messing with? You don’t touch Neal, you hear me? Neal is p>
Before he could finish, Lance grabbed the guy’s arm with one hand, and there was a loud, sharp crack. The guy screamed, crumpling to the floor.
The other one hesitated, steps faltering, but still managed to bark out a warning. “Neal is from the Gates family! Hurt him and the whole Gates family will come for you p>
“That works for me,” Lance shot back, voice colder than ever. “I’d actually like to find out if every last member of the Gates family is as tough as you pretend to be p>
The guy stared at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When it hit him that Lance was serious and not just bluffing, his bravado faded fast. But Lance stayed calm, shrugged off his jacket, and tossed it to Camilla, then turned to deal with the rest.
By the time Mahoney came back from outside, the place was a disaster. The four guys were battered, bruised, bloodied, some clearly nursing broken bones. They were sprawled together in a pathetic heap, looking more like discarded junk than the tough guys they wanted to be.
Light poured in behind Lance as he stood amid the chaos, still trash-talking, still goading them, as if daring them to try again. He smirked and told them to call someone else for backup, clearly unimpressed.
Mahoney rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the headache.
He always knew Lance wasn’t the gentle type. That was why the Charles family had sent him to the military, then kept him out of the country when he finally got out.
How Camilla had ended up with Lance’s attention was anyone’s guess. Mahoney made a mental note to pull her aside soon. She needed to keep her distance from someone like this. Who knew what would set him off next, or if he’d even hit his own wife when he lost his temper.
Mahoney cleared his throat, stepping in before things went further. “That’s enough. I’ll finish up here. Take Camilla to the hospital p>
Lance finally looked over at Camilla. He felt a tightness in his chest he wasn’t used to. Showing up like this, taking control, claiming her so boldly—was it too much? Would she be mad?
But when he looked her way, he realized she wasn’t thinking about him at all. Camilla was focused on Dahlia, speaking softly, gently, trying to comfort her friend. She hadn’t even looked his way.
Even the jacket Lance had handed her was draped over Dahlia’s shoulders, not hers.
He arched an eyebrow, not sure how to describe the feeling eating at him. Was it relief? Disappointment? Jealousy?
He let it go and signaled for the car.
Dahlia was still in bad shape. Even after the thugs were gone and they were on the road, she couldn’t stop shaking. Her face had gone from pale to almost gray.
Camilla stayed right by her side, not paying attention to anything else.
The past had left too deep a scar on Dahlia. Camilla worried constantly that a breakdown was just around the corner.
Not until she handed Dahlia off to the doctors did Camilla let herself relax, even a little. Lance quietly pressed a cup of warm water into her hands. “Don’t stress. I’ll get the best specialists for her. Your friend will be okay p>
Camilla gave a quiet nod, tried to pull herself together, and asked, “What’s going to happen to those guys? Pamela and Barnard can’t just walk away from this, and then p>
“Let Mahoney handle it,” Lance said, his tone soft but firm. “You’re exhausted, Camilla. Try to get some rest p>