Camilla's POV...
Today was another day.
He still wasn't back.
The mansion had become a mausoleum built of whispers and polished marble. The guards moved through the halls like silent ghosts, their boots making no sound, their eyes fixed on some distant point. The maids brought trays of food I didn't touch—delicate pastries, clear broths, fruits cut into perfect, lifeless shapes. They would take the old tray away, their faces carefully blank, and return with a new one, as if performing a ritual for a statue.
My room stayed the same. The gray walls, the color of a rainy sky at dusk. The blue sheets, cool and smooth as a frozen lake. A beautiful, empty cage.
A cage that felt infinitely larger, infinitely more desolate, without him in it.
I know it was my words that did this.
Pay for sex.
