"Sit, son. Breakfast is ready."
Camille motioned toward the chair beside her just as the maids moved quickly, setting dishes on the long mahogany table; toast, eggs, tea, fruit I couldn't touch.
I sat opposite him, still unsure how to breathe in the same space with the man I had sinned with.
"Thank you," he said simply, taking the seat. His voice carried quiet authority, the kind that silenced a room without effort.
Camille smiled, pleased. "You arrived late last night. Too tired to attend Andrea's engagement party. I would have loved to see you there."
"I had other matters to attend," he replied.
Harmless words, but my stomach twisted. Other matters.
Does he remember? He sounds like he doesn't. Or maybe he just hides it well.
"By the way…" Elias turned to Andrea. "Congratulations on your big day."
Andrea tossed her hair, feeding David with an exaggerated sweetness. "Thank you. My fiancé and I appreciate it."
David's eyes darted to me, awkward, guilty. I immediately looked down at my plate.
Camille poured Elias a cup of tea. "We'll have to talk about the company today."
He nodded. "I just came from there. You don't have to worry about it."
My fork slipped from my hand, clattering softly. Camille didn't notice.
Elias did. His gaze flicked toward me, too fast, like he had been watching me without looking at me.
When he spoke again, his voice was steady, almost casual. "Mara will be joining me at the company."
I froze. "Excuse me?"
He didn't even glance my way this time. "You'll be my co-CEO. You'll work with me."
Camille lifted her head, surprised. "That's sudden, isn't it? She's still…."
"She's Philip's wife," he said evenly. "Her presence stabilizes the board."
My chest tightened. "I never agreed to…"
"It isn't a request," he cut in. His tone was smooth, unraised, but final. "You start next week. I'll have your schedule sent to you."
My mouth went dry. "You can't just decide that"
"I can," he said softly. "And I have."
Silence swept across the table.
Camille sighed, folding her napkin. "He's right, dear. It's... what Philip would have wanted. For appearances, if nothing else."
Appearances.
That's all I'd ever been to this family. A ring. A headline. A placeholder.
Elias stood and pushed his chair back. "We're done here."
He left without a glance.
Andrea didn't wait a second after Elias left.
"Why are you acting like you don't want that position, Mara?" she snapped.
"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.
She only sighed, annoyed, and walked away.
Camille stood next.
"Mother… please tell him I don't want that position. I don't want any of it."
She didn't even flinch.
"Remember where you are, Mara. You don't get to call me 'mother' here."
Then she left too.
I pushed my plate away. The food suddenly tasted like ash.
Halfway out the door, David's voice caught me.
"Is that how they've been treating you?"
I didn't look back. I kept walking.
I went to my room and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into nothing.
What kind of man was Elias Lawson?
How foolish of me to think he was nicer than Philip.
I groaned into my palms. I already hate him.
My phone rang—Clara.
"Baby girl," she burst out, "before you vanish again, I'm reminding you, your appointment is exactly one week from now. Don't stand me up. I will disown you."
A tiny laugh escaped me. "I won't."
"You'd better not. You've been skipping too many follow-ups."
"I know… I'll come. I promise."
A week later, I kept that promise.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and cold air. I headed straight to Clara's office. She stood at the end of the hallway with a file in hand, one eyebrow raised.
"Mara Lawson," she said with mock sternness. "Look who finally decided not to run from her own body."
I rolled my eyes and hugged her. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes, under emotional blackmail." She pulled back, studying my face. "You look tired again."
"I live in a house full of people who want me gone. Tired is my brand now."
She looped her arm through mine. "And I heard about David's engagement. I swear he's doing that out of spite."
"I don't want to talk about that."
"Fine. Let's check you before you faint on my floor. I just cleaned it."
I laughed softly and followed her inside. She shut the door and dropped the serious-doctor act.
"Okay," she said, flipping my file open. "First, your test results."
My pulse picked up. "Good or bad?"
"Both," she admitted. "You're healing, but slowly. Hormones still adjusting. Your uterus is still sensitive. You have internal inflammation."
My breath caught. "So I'm not okay."
"You're healing," she corrected. "But you're not Superwoman. No stress. No lifting. And Mara no sexual activity. None."
I groaned. "You sound like my mother."
"I sound like someone who doesn't want you bleeding on my table."
I tried to joke, but guilt pressed against my chest. Clara saw it instantly.
"What aren't you telling me?"
I looked away.
"Oh no," she said. "Start talking."
My fingers twisted. "Clara… something happened."
"When?"
"Where?"
"Why do you look guilty?" She piled questions like bullets.
I swallowed. "I slept with someone."
She blinked. "Okay. It happens. But who?"
I whispered, "At the engagement party."
Her jaw dropped. "Mara! Don't tell me it was David".
"No," I cut in. "I wouldn't let that happen. It was… someone else."
She narrowed her eyes. "Who?"
I hesitated. "It turns out… he's Philip's brother."
She froze completely.
"Mara. No. No, you didn't."
"I was drunk. I swear, I wasn't in my right mind."
"And your body wasn't healed!" she nearly shrieked. "Do you have a death wish?"
"I didn't know," I whispered. "Clara, I wasn't thinking."
Then her voice softened, serious.
"Mara. No one can ever know. Not Andrea. Not Camille. Not David. No one in that house."
"I know."
"I mean it." Her voice trembled. "For your safety, your peace, your reputation, stay away from him. Whatever happened that night, it ends there."
A lump formed in my throat. "Am I… a bad person?"
She squeezed my hand. "No you were lonely, hurting, and fate screwed you over. But now you have to protect yourself."
She exhaled softly, her tone shifting. "And you need to keep it a secret, Mara. Completely. Just like no one knows you're even here today."
I frowned, and she caught it immediately, her eyes softening.
"I know what you're thinking," she added. "And I'll say it again, it wasn't your fault that you lost Philip's baby. Your pregnancy was dangerous from the start. One day you'll explain it to them, but for now… let them believe it was a miscarriage. You don't owe anyone your pain, Mara. You've been through enough."
My throat tightened. "What would I do without you, Clara? I love you so much. God really blessed me with a best friend and a doctor in one."
She squeezed my hands gently. "I'm here anytime. Always."
When I returned to the mansion, it was late.
My stomach growled, so I slipped into the kitchen for a fruit.
The room was quiet. I sliced an apple, leaning against the counter, the dull ache in my abdomen pulsing.
I turned to grab a cup
and froze.
David stood at the doorway, hands in his pockets.
"I didn't know you were back."
How does he know I left?
"I live here," I said, avoiding his eyes.
He nodded, glancing around. "You look… tired."
"I could say the same."
The silence stretched—awkward, heavy. It's our first real conversation since the breakup.
"I heard about Philip," he said finally. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you," I whispered.
He took a small step forward. "I wanted to reach out sooner. But… it didn't feel right."
"No. It wouldn't have."
He watched me with a softened expression—familiar, almost kind.
"You deserve better than this place, Mara."
Our eyes met, and for a moment, something in his eyes softened. Familiar. Painful. Almost kind.
"Baby, I'm back. I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Andrea's voice shattered the moment as she strode into the kitchen.