Chapter 3

~ Camilla's POV ~

The first thing I heard was static—like the rush of ocean waves inside my skull.

Then voices. Muffled. Urgent.

“…She’s waking up.”

“Camilla? Sweetheart… Can you hear me?”

My eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, lashes damp with tears I didn’t remember shedding. The ceiling spun above me as I tried to open my eyes. Tried sitting up, but Olivia pushed me gently back on the bed.

"Just stay still," she said, brows furrowed with worry.

My mother’s pale, tear-stained face hovered into view. Beside her, Olivia gripped my hand so tightly my knuckles ached, her forced smile doing a terrible job of hiding the storm in her eyes. My stomach twisted.

It wasn’t a dream. George hadn’t shown up.

I pushed myself up slowly, every movement heavy with ached, as if an iron band had wrapped around it, tightening with every breath.

“Where…where is he?” My mother’s expression crumpled.

“We don’t know, darling. He never showed up at the venue. His phone is off. No one’s seen him since last night.”

The veil slipped from my shoulders, pooling around me like the ghost of a fairy tale that had died before it began. In the mirror across the room, I saw her, the bride who was supposed to be me. Makeup smudged, hair undone, eyes hollowhollow.ain doll cracked straight down the middle. A small laugh escaped my mouth.

“ We talked last night, Mama... he said he couldn't wait to see me in my dress." I shook vehemently, fear engulfed me, and tears threatened to fall.

"It's okay baby" My mother wrapped me in her arms, patting my back softly.

What could've happened?! He couldn't leave me like that, could he? The thoughts kept ringing in my head.

A sharp knock shattered the silence. The door burst open, and my father stormed in like a thundercloud, suit half-buttoned, tie hanging loose, and jaw so tight it looked painful.

“This is a goddamn circus,” he barked. “We’re all over the internet. ‘Abandoned at the altar.’ Do you have any idea what this will do to our name?”

I flinched at the sound of his voice.

“James, please…” my mother began, but he cut her off with a wave.

“I told you that boy was trouble. And now he’s dragged our entire family into disgrace!”

“I didn’t know…” My voice came out small and raw. “Didn’t know? he snapped.

“Didn’t know you were marrying a coward who’d humiliate you—and us—on live broadcast?”

"Dad, something could have happened to him." My voice came out sharper than I thought it would.

" What could have happened to him? Wake up Camilla Baker, that boy has nothing to offer you but ruins"

“Okay, enough” Olivia shot back, standing so fast her chair scraped the floor. “She’s the victim here.”

My father turned on her; Olivia didn’t flinch, she pressed on.

“You wanted this too, this wedding too; isn't only about her getting married” Olivia paused for a second.

"What?!” My father said voice low and stern, his face held an unexplained expression of rage.

“Whether George is a legitimate son of the Millers or not, he's the only son, and getting your daughter married to him would strengthen the ties of your company. Now, things goes south and you blame your daughter?"

"And who are you to tell me what to do in my own house?!" My father yelled angrily, rage all over his face. It was very obvious he cared less about what happened to George or how I was feeling.

"She is telling the obvious truth, John. "This isn't the time to blame anyone," my mother added, her voice soft, trying to calm my father down, who just angrily paced the room.

The silence that followed was suffocating. My breaths came short and shallow. My mother continuously tapped my back gently as if to tell me to hold my anger in.

I couldn’t take it.

The walls were closing in.

I stood, my gown rustling like brittle leaves, and fled to the bathroom.

I slammed the door and collapsed to the cold tile floor, my knees buckling under the weight of it all.

I didn’t cry.

I just sat there, drowning in layers of tulle, clutching the velvet ring box I never got to open. It felt weightless now.

Meaningless.

I didn’t need to open it to know it was empty.

I could still hear my father's raging voice, my mother yelling as it turned to sobs, doors opening and slamming, then silence.

A soft knock on the bathroom door, but I didn't budge.

"You can come out now, Cam," Olivia said and continued knocking.

Just then my phone dinged; I didn't realize I was holding it all along.

My shaky hands swiped open the phone to see the heart-wrenching message my husband-to-be left behind:

I can't do this, Cam. I'm sorry, but ... you're not just good enough for me to settle with ..."

My heart sank; the whole cell in my body went numb.

Not good enough for two years...

How could he say this to me?!

Just when I start to think about where I had it all wrong, a message from an unknown source sends a picture of George and a woman half naked on the bed, but the woman's face is blurred out.

I held my breath in for a couple of seconds stunned...and that was when I felt it, the lump at the back of my throat and the pain of my heart ripping apart.

It all felt like a dream.

But it wasn't.