Page 220 of Corrupting Camille
Another pause. “I get it. I mean, I don’t. But I want to.”
I nod, though she can’t see it. “How are you? How’s everything at home?”
Clara hesitates.
“They don’t talk about you,” she says finally. “Not even once. It’s like you’ve been erased. Mom says it’s too upsetting. Dad just... acts like you never existed.”
My stomach knots.
It’s not unexpected.
But it still stings.
“I figured,” I whisper.
Clara’s voice softens. “They’re them. But I’m not.”
“I know,” I say.
She’s quiet for a moment, then adds, gently, “Are you safe?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’m... really okay, Clara. It’s complicated, but I promise I’m safe.”
Another pause.
Then, hesitantly: “Are you still going to be in the wedding? No pressure. I’ll completely understand if…”
“If you still want me there,” I say, cutting her off gently, “I’ll be there. Always.”
She exhales, the relief audible through the line. “Thank you.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” she says, her voice smaller. “And for the record? I’m happy for you. Whatever this is…whoeverhe is you sound like you finally get to be happy.”
My chest tightens. I blink fast. “Thanks, Clara.”
“Just... be careful, okay?”
“I will.”
We say goodbye softly. No drama. No tears. Just that quiet, steady love that’s always been there. The kind you don’t question. The kind that stays.
***
The call from the twins comes right after breakfast.
Kane’s phone buzzes, and he sighs when he sees who’s calling, but answers anyway.
“Marisol,” he says, voice dry, guarded. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I watch his face carefully from across the kitchen island as he listens, expression shifting from neutral to irritated in seconds.
“No,” he says, flat. “Not happening.”
My brows rise.
He shoots me a glance, then turns slightly away, voice firming up with irritation. “Because I said no.”
