Chapter 4
Camila's POV
"I didn't—I didn't hit him—"
I tried to explain, but Rhys's hand clamped around my throat like a vice. I couldn't breathe.
I looked at his furious face. My vision went dark.
Once, he used to be the best one to me. Someone bullied me, he'd grab a baseball bat and storm into their house. I had nightmares, he'd stand guard outside my door all night.
Now, he really wanted to kill me.
Tears streamed down my face. Through the blur, Jackson leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Not moving. Gabriel crouched beside Cole, back turned.
No one moved.
Suddenly, nothing mattered anymore. My arms went limp. I stopped struggling.
"Jackson! Stop it!" Avery screamed, rushing in. "You're gonna kill her!"
"Relax." Jackson pulled her back. "Rhys knows what he's doing. Trained at Tyson's for eight years."
"Jackson!"
"She's not gonna die."
Avery stopped arguing. She bent down, quickly checked the cut above her son's eyebrow, then looked up. "Cole's fine. Just a scratch. Doesn't even need stitches. Now let her GO—Jackson! Gabriel!"
Finally, they moved forward, grabbing Rhys from both sides.
"Enough, Rhys."
Rhys snorted and let go.
I collapsed to the floor, coughing violently. Couldn't stop coughing and crying. Took forever to catch my breath.
"Camila."
Gabriel moved to help me up, then saw the bloody wound on my forearm.
"Shit! You're hurt—"
"Lemme see." Jackson came over, his expression shifting. "Jesus, how'd it get this bad?"
"I'm fine." I pulled my arm back, scooted away.
"You're fine?" Rhys leaned against the couch, laughing coldly. "Yeah, right. You're always 'fine.' And we're always overreacting, aren't we?"
"Rhys, that's enough." Avery frowned, cutting him off. She turned to me. "Look, what happened?"
I wiped my face with my sleeve. My voice came out hoarse. "Cole threw the vase first. I put my hands up to block it. That's when the pieces flew back. I didn't hit him."
The living room went quiet.
Avery looked down at her son. "Cole."
Cole buried his face in her shoulder. Said nothing.
"Cole!"
He slowly lifted his head, eyes red, lips pressed tight. Then he looked away.
The truth hung in the air.
"Well... who knows what you said to set him off." Rhys cleared his throat awkwardly. "Kids don't just—"
"Believe whatever you want." I gave up completely. Turned to leave.
"Camila," Gabriel blocked my path, face serious. "Just let me look at it first—"
"I don't need it."
"Those fragments are gonna get infected—"
"I said I don't NEED it!"
"Camila." Jackson stepped in, trying to smooth things over. "Come on, just let me wrap it up. Tomorrow I'll take you shopping, get you whatever you want. Jewelry, whatever—"
"I don't want that stuff." I couldn't hold it in anymore. "I want him to apologize."
Everyone's faces darkened.
Gabriel sighed. "Camila, look, he's a kid, and he already—"
"He knows what he did."
"Okay, fine. Even if he does." Rhys stood up, arms crossed. "You're a grown-ass woman. You really gonna push this with a seven-year-old? You think that makes sense?"
"He threw a vase at me! What's wrong with asking for an apology?"
"So let us compensate you." Jackson's patience was wearing thin. "What do you want? Yacht, house—name it—"
"I just want an apology."
"No. That's not happening." Jackson cut me off. "Cole's not apologizing. We're done here."
All three stood in a line, Cole and Avery behind them.
I looked at them. Said nothing.
When we were kids, they used to stand like that too—backs to the world, protecting me. Now everything had changed.
"Fine."
I laughed. Then turned and walked toward the door.
"Camila." Gabriel followed. "It's snowing. Where are you going?"
I pushed the door open and walked into the storm without looking back.
When I woke up the next day, my apartment was warm.
Last night I ended up back at my own place. I lit the fireplace, sat on the floor, watched the flames die down. Then go out.
Then I started packing up their things.
The Patek Philippe from Rhys, my name engraved on the back. Gabriel's hand-bound poetry collection, his handwriting on the inside cover. Jackson's emerald ring—he'd promised once that this was his grandmother's, only for the most important person.
One by one, I threw them all in the fireplace.
And the photos from all these years. I watched their faces burn.
I just stood there, watching them turn to ash.
After packing my bags, I went downstairs. Dad's black Cadillac was already waiting by the curb.
I put my luggage in the trunk and got in.
Dad was quiet for a long time. Then: "Camila, are you really sure about this? Valentin Moretti—I looked into him. He's not just some bastard. Ruthless, brutal..." He didn't finish. I knew what he meant.
I looked down at my phone.
Three unread messages.
Gabriel: Get the glass out. Go to the hospital. Not asking.
A minute later, Jackson: Had someone check the safe house. If you were telling the truth, that's my fault. My bad.
Rhys: Where'd you go? I was talking shit, you know that. Come back and say it to my face if you got a problem. Stop playing games.
I stared at the screen for a long time. Then blocked all three of them.
I looked up at Dad.
"I'm sure. I'll do the marriage."
Dad was silent for a long time. Finally, he sighed.
"Airport, then."
