SOLD TO AUGUST CHILDE

019

CAMILLA

Ama rushed in the moment the words left Taylor’s mouth, her slippers barely making a sound against the hospital floor. She moved straight to the bed, placing herself between me and the girl like instinct alone had summoned her.

“No, ma’am,” she said, voice steady, unshaken. “She’s my daughter.”

The room stalled. Even the machines seemed to pause, their low beeping suddenly too loud, too aware.

August exhaled. A deep, tired sigh that carried the weight of a man who had reached the end of his patience for the day. He lifted one hand and flicked it toward the doctor without even looking at him.

“That’s all,” he said.

The doctor did not argue. He clutched his clipboard tighter to his chest and left as though the walls themselves had ordered him out. The door clicked shut behind him, sharp and final.

August turned slowly to Taylor.

“You really enjoy humiliating yourself,” he said. His voice was calm, almost bored, but there was something sharp underneath it. Something dangerous.

Taylor hesitated. Just for a second. Then she lifted her chin, pride stepping in where sense should have been.

“And why would you rush here for another woman’s daughter?” she snapped. “Is she yours?”

The scoff that left August was cold enough to freeze blood.

“You’re more stupid than I thought.”

That was when the guards appeared in the doorway. Two of them. Tall. Broad. Silent. They did not need to be told what kind of men they were. Their presence alone said enough.

“Take her out,” August said.

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, jerking away as the guards closed in. Then she twisted toward August, rage blazing in her eyes. She pointed at him, her finger shaking. “And you,” she spat. “I’ll still find the woman you’re sleeping with.”

August did not move. Did not blink.

“I swear I will,” Taylor yelled, thrashing as the guards grabbed her arms. “No matter how clean you think you are. No matter how hard you try to hide her. You think you can erase footprints? You can’t. I’ll find her.”

“Sir?” one of the guards said quietly.

She laughed, sharp and hysterical. “This isn’t over, August. I promise you that.”

Suddenly, she wrenched herself free. The guards paused, surprised. Taylor straightened her dress, lifted her chin, and stormed out on her own, heels slamming against the floor. Each step echoed down the hallway, loud and angry, long after she disappeared from sight.

The room fell into silence.

Not the calm kind. The heavy kind. Thick and suffocating, like everyone inside had been holding their breath and only just remembered how to breathe again.

August exhaled slowly. Once.

He turned to Ama and gave a single nod. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, sir,” Ama replied, her voice respectful but steady.

“Please excuse us,” August said. “And call Conrad. He should be downstairs.”

Ama nodded and left without another word, closing the door softly behind her.

August turned back to me.

He dragged the plastic chair closer to the bed and sat down. The chair scraped softly against the floor, the sound cutting through my nerves.

He reached out and brushed his fingers over my cheeks, slow and gentle in a way that felt wrong, because the air between us was still buzzing with tension that had not settled.

“Camilla,” he said quietly. “I thought I was clear. I told you not to try to run.”

My chest tightened so suddenly it hurt. My heart slammed against my ribs, wild and desperate, as if it already knew where this conversation was going.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice thinner than I wanted it to be.

He picked up a strand of my hair and wound it around his finger slowly, carefully, watching my face the entire time. His eyes searched me, sharp and unblinking, as if he were peeling me apart layer by layer.

“Why did you pretend to faint?” he asked.

I stared at him, disbelief crashing into anger. “I didn’t pretend,” I said. “Do you hate me so much that you think I would joke with my life like that?”

His hand dropped immediately, the softness vanishing as though it had never been there.

“I hate liars,” he said. His eyes darkened, something restless and dangerous flickering behind them. “I hate them deeply. And lying is what you do best. You lie to me with ease. Tell me why.”