Mr. Farrell, We Are Divorced

Cameron’s POV

Dinner was a nightmare.

Not the kind of nightmare where you wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. No, this was worse. Because I wasn’t asleep—I was wide awake, sitting at this ridiculously long table, trapped in a room full of people I hated.

The Holloway dining hall was a joke. It was too big for just four people, and the massive chandelier hanging above us was so bright it gave me a headache. The long-ass table made conversation weird, but that never stopped my stepmother, Eleanor, from pretending we were the picture of a perfect family.

Dad sat at the head of the table, his usual smug expression plastered on his face, like he was some great king or whatever. Eleanor was right beside him, sipping wine and looking like she actually belonged here. Spoiler alert: she didn’t. And then there was Drake, my perfect stepbrother, sitting across from me with this annoyingly satisfied smirk.

I should’ve known something was up.

Drake set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin like some kind of royal prince. “So,” he said, dragging the word out for attention. “I have an announcement.”

I immediately hated it.

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Drake leaned back in his chair, glancing at Eleanor before turning his full attention to Dad. “Hilda and I are getting engaged.”

My stomach dropped.

The fork slipped from my fingers and clattered against my plate, the noise echoing in the oversized room. I barely even noticed.

Drake was getting engaged.

The words spun in my head, over and over, like some kind of sick joke.

Hilda Lancaster. Heiress to the Lancaster family—one of the wealthiest, most powerful families in the country. Their influence stretched far beyond business; they had deep political ties, old money that demanded respect, and a name that could open any door.

A marriage between Drake and Hilda wasn’t just a union—it was a statement. A power move.

With her by his side, Drake wouldn’t just be Charles Holloway’s son. He’d be untouchable.

And me? I’d be nothing.

A ghost in my own family.

It shouldn’t have mattered. I shouldn’t have cared. But the moment Dad smiled—actually smiled—at Drake, the air in my lungs vanished.

I was drowning.

This wasn’t just about an engagement. This was the final nail in the coffin.

I had already been cast aside, but this? This made it official.

Drake was going to inherit everything. The fortune. The power. The name.

The future I had been raised for.

My fingers curled into my palm, nails digging into my skin. I forced myself to breathe, but every inhale felt heavier than the last.

This was her doing.

Eleanor.

Years ago, she and my father had ruined my mother—framed her, humiliated her, and destroyed her reputation beyond repair.

My jack ass of a father had cheated on my mum , betrayed her in the worst possible way, then cast her aside like she was nothing. When she couldn’t take it anymore, when the weight of the shame and the whispers became too much—she ended her life.

I would never forget the day I found her swinging on a rope attached to the ceiling.

After mum was gone, my father twisted the truth, slandering her name, claiming she had been the unfaithful one. He painted her as a liar, a cheater, a disgrace, until everyone believed him. Until she was nothing more than a scandal, a stain he could wash away.

And now, years later, his new family sat in her place, living the life that should have been hers.

 And now? Eleanor had taken everything. My father. My home. My future. She had sunk her claws into this family and made sure there was no place left for me.

And it worked.

Because Dad—my own father—was looking at Drake like he was the son he had always wanted. Like I had never been good enough.

It was because of them my mum was gone forever.

Something inside me cracked.

But I couldn’t let them see.

Slowly, I picked up my fork, forcing my hands to steady.

It was then that I realized the room had gone silent.

I looked up.

Dad was watching me. So was Eleanor. And Drake—his smirk practically oozed satisfaction.

“Hmm,” Eleanor said, sipping her wine. “I expected more of a reaction.”

I said nothing.

Dad leaned back in his chair, an almost amused expression crossing his face. “You always were quiet in the face of reality.”

The words sliced through me like a blade, but I didn’t let it show.

Eleanor hummed in agreement. “I must say, I do feel for you, Cameron. It must be hard, watching your younger brother step up in the way you never could.”

Drake chuckled. “Oh, don’t be cruel, Mother.” He turned to me, eyes glinting with mock concern. “You’re happy for me, aren’t you, Cameron?”

I clenched my jaw.

This was deliberate. They wanted me to break. To snap.

I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

So I lifted my glass, forced a tight smile, and said, “Overjoyed.”

Drake grinned, leaning back like he had already won. Eleanor laughed, pleased.

And Dad?

He just shook his head. Like I wasn’t even worth being disappointed in anymore.

I swallowed down the bitterness rising in my throat.

No power. No status. No chance at revenge.

I pushed my plate away and stood up. “I’m full,” I muttered, not waiting for a response before turning on my heel and heading for the door.

“Cameron,” Dad called, his tone carrying that warning edge I hated.

I stopped but didn’t turn around.

“You should be more supportive of your brother,” he said, like I was the unreasonable one. “This family’s future depends on strong alliances. Try to understand that.”

I clenched my jaw.

Strong alliances. Right. Ones that didn’t involve me.

Without another word, I walked out.

I headed straight to my room and grabbed my phone. There was only one person I could trust with this.

Daniel picked up on the third ring. “What’s up?”

“Drake’s getting engaged to Hilda,” I said without preamble.

There was a pause. “Shit,” Daniel muttered. “That’s bad.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” I ran a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth. “If he marries her, he’s definitely inheriting everything. I need a stronger political marriage, but there’s no one left.”

Daniel hummed on the other end, clearly thinking. “What about Brandon?”

I stopped pacing. “Brandon?” I repeated, like the name itself was poisonous.

Brandon Kingsley was the last person I’d ever consider for anything, let alone marriage.

The thought alone made my stomach twist.

We were rivals. He was the guy who stole the fraternity president position from me. The guy who always outshined me, no matter how hard I worked. But worse than that—

He was a man and it's well known that he was gay

And I was straight.

Dead straight.

So why the hell would I marry a guy?

My hands curled into fists at how ridiculous the idea was.

No. Absolutely not.

The idea of being tied to someone like him—of everyone looking at me like that—made my skin crawl. I could already hear the whispers, the rumors. Could already see the looks people would give me.

Daniel knew exactly how I felt about Brandon. And yet, here he was, suggesting this insane idea.

“Hear me out,” Daniel said quickly. “Brandon’s family is old money. Powerful, respectable. If you marry him, it would completely overshadow Drake and Hilda’s alliance.”

I shook my head. “Brandon would never agree.”

“Not willingly.”

Something in Daniel’s tone made me pause.

“What are you suggesting?” I asked, narrowing my eyes even though he wasn’t here to see it.

“We have the fraternity party this weekend,” Daniel said. “Brandon will be there. We get him drunk, maybe slip something extra into his drink, and take a few compromising photos. Enough to make sure he has no choice but to say yes.”

I let the idea sink in. It was dirty. Underhanded. The kind of thing I’d never considered before.

But I was desperate.

Brandon was my last shot.

I took a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s do it.”