My Husband's Son

Chapter Five

CAMILLA

I woke up like my skull hurting like it had been spilt open. My head was banging—no, pounding—like someone had taken a hammer to the inside of it. My body felt unfamiliar, sore in places I didn’t want to think about yet. For a few seconds, I stayed still, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together where the hell I was.

The sheets smelled like someone else male, warm, expensive. Panic crawled up my spine slowly, then all at once as I finally placed the heavy weight on my belly.

And then I turned and saw him with unreasonably long eyelashes and a day old stubble on top of lips.

Oh my God.

Oh my f*****g God.

I shot upright so fast my head screamed in protest. “s**t,” I whispered, pressing my palm to my forehead. The images from the night before rushed in uninvited—the club, the drinks, the tears, his voice, his mouth. That mouth.

I remembered everything and I panicked because this… this wasn’t me. I didn’t do this. I didn’t go home with strangers. I didn’t end up in someone else’s bed after my life imploded in the span of one f*****g evening.

He shifted in his sleep, murmured something low and unintelligible. I froze. The last thing I wanted was to wake him up and have to talk. Talk meant explaining. Explaining meant facing what I’d done.

I slid out of bed as quietly as I could, and grabbed my dress, wincing as pain shot up my body to remind me exactly what we’d been doing hours ago.

Fuck.

I dressed quickly and began to search for my sling bag that contained my keys, I found it near the door, grabbed my shoes next and tried to make my hair looked as presentable as possible.

I looked back at the man. He was still asleep. Looking more dangerous in that peaceful state.

I have been doing cliches novel plots since yesterday and the good thing to do was to allow him wake up and not run off like some phantom but I would prefer to forget last night. It was a mistake never to be repeated.

Still I found a pen and paper on the desk. My hand shook as I wrote.

Thank you for the night and thank you for being kind. You were… really good. I needed to forget and you helped me. I won’t forget that.

Take care.

It sounded just as cowardly as I felt but beggars can't be choosers.

I folded the note, left it on the bedside table where he’d see it when he woke up, then slipped out as quietly as I could.

When I got to my apartment, the door was slightly open. I didn't know what to expect, probably Dylan on his knees or him being worried I didn't come back home throughout the night, well something except what I found.

“No,” I whispered, pushing it wider.

The place was empty like stripped-empty.

My television was gone, same with the and even the couch. My china wares, my limited edition books were all gone. My jewelry box that contained what I deemed too precious to pawn was gone.

I staggered forward, and ran to the bedroom. I couldn't believe my eyes. My closet was empty.

My clothes. My shoes. My bags. Everything.

I screamed. That f*****g cheap bastard!!

I dropped to the floor, hands shaking as I tried to breathe, but panic crushed the air out of my lungs.

“No, no, no—”

My phone began to buzz repeatedly. They were alert from the bank. Someone was withdrawing money from our joint account. An account that only I funded.

I opened my banking app, my hands shaking and just like that my savings were gone goo. The money I’d worked for, bled for, hidden away for safety had just been stolen.

Dylan and Bella. Those snakes hadn’t just betrayed my heart—they’d bled me dry. Making sure I never forget them with this experience.

I quickly blocked the account, freezing everything before they could drain me dry or take loans in my name. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone.

When it was done, I slid down the wall and sobbed.

I laughed too—hysterical, broken little sounds that didn’t belong to a sane person. “Five years,” I whispered. “Five f*****g years.”

And where did that get me? No where except being betrayed, robbed and alone.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, staring at nothing, when the door bursted open a group of men in black filed in like they owned the place. I thought they looked familiar and when my brother walked in, it confirmed my suspicion.

“Well,” he said, eyes sweeping over the empty apartment, lips curling. “Looks like s**t, doesn’t it?”

I stood up, clenching my fist. “What are you doing here?”

He clicked his tongue. “We told you not to run off five years ago,” he said. “Told you you wouldn’t last without the family. But you’re stubborn. Always had to prove something.”

“And now look at you,” he continued. “f****d over by a boyfriend and your best friend, broke, crying on the floor. Predictable.”

“Get out,” I whispered.

But he only grabbed my arm tightly, his nails digging into my skin.

“You’re coming with me,” he said. “You’re due for a family meeting.”

"Let me go, Liam!"

I struggled weakly, tears burning my eyes, as he dragged me outside to a black car that had been waiting.

When we got home, he pulled me out of the car forcefully and I barely had time to steady myself before Liam shoved me forward. .

My father was waiting in the living room and he didn’t ask where I’d been or what happened to me. He didn’t ask if I was okay.

He just moved closer and slapped me hard across the face.

My head snapped to the side, pain exploding across my cheek. I tasted blood instantly, metallic and warm. My ears rang, but I stayed upright. I didn’t cry. I refused to give him that.

“You shameless girl,” he thundered. “You’ve disgraced this family.”

I lifted my eyes slowly.

My mother was standing beside him watching me like I was something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Her face was filled with disgust for me.

When....when did they change from those loving parents to this?

“I lost everything,” I said hoarsely. “I was robbed. I needed—”

“Enough,” my father cut in. “You always need. You always bring shame. Five years ago, you thought you could walk away from us and survive on your own. Look at you now.”

My mother finally spoke. “Sleeping around. Ruining our name. Letting men use you.”

“I didn’t—” My voice broke despite my effort. “You don’t even know what happened.”

“We know enough,” she snapped. “You embarrassed us. You embarrassed yourself ab6d us.”

I laughed then. “So that’s it? I lose my home, my money, my dignity—and this is what you see?”

My father stepped closer. “You see,” he said coldly, “this is why you are no longer allowed to make decisions for yourself.”

My chest tightened. “What does that mean?”

He turned slightly, “You are getting married,” he said.

I blinked, “…What?”

“Tomorrow,” my mother added calmly.

“That’s not funny,” I whispered.

My father’s face didn’t change. “It’s already arranged. The contract was finalized this morning.”

My legs felt weak. “You can’t do this. I don’t even know him.”

“That’s irrelevant,” my mother said. “You don’t need love. You need control.”

I stared at them, my own parents. “You’re punishing me.”

“No,” my father corrected. “We’re saving what little honor you have left.”

I shook my head, backing away. “I won’t do it. I refuse.”

He smiled then, slow and cruel. “You don’t have a choice.”

My mother stepped forward at last, adjusting my hair like I was a doll. Her touch made my skin crawl. “You will marry him. You will smile. And you will remember that your body, your name, and your future belong to this family and never yours. Now come darling, you have a wedding to prepare for.”