Chapter 4

Cameron’s POV

The moment my phone rang, I knew something was wrong.

I had just finished my last class for the day and was about to grab lunch when his name flashed across my screen.

Dad.

I stared at it for a second, debating whether to answer. I already had a bad feeling. My father never called unless it was something serious—something I wouldn’t like.

Still, ignoring him wasn’t an option.

I sighed, stepped away from my friends, and picked up. “Yeah?”

“Come home. Now.”

I blinked. “What?”

“There’s something we need to discuss. It’s about your inheritance.”

My stomach twisted. Inheritance. That was never a good topic in the Aston family.

I pressed my fingers against the bridge of my nose. “Can this wait? I still have—”

“No, Cameron. It cannot wait.” His voice was sharp, final. “Get home. Immediately.”

And just like that, the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, my appetite gone. What the hell was that about?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

I made it home in record time. The Aston estate loomed over me as I pulled up, its grand, cold architecture as unwelcoming as ever.

I barely had time to drop my bag before a butler directed me to my father’s study.

The second I stepped inside, I knew I was walking into a trap.

My father, Charles Aston, sat behind his massive oak desk, the very picture of control. His expression was unreadable, but the sharpness in his gaze told me this wasn’t a friendly chat.

And then there was him.

Mr. Sullivan, my father’s most trusted lawyer. The man who handled all the family’s legal matters.

My pulse sped up. This wasn’t just a talk. This was official.

I swallowed hard. “What’s going on?”

My father leaned forward, folding his hands together. “I hear you don’t want to get married.”

I froze.

What?

How did he know? I had barely walked out of that café. Had Brandon—? No. He wouldn’t have had time.

Then realization hit me. Drake.

I clenched my fists. “And?” I said carefully. “It’s true. I don’t want to.”

His expression didn’t change. “That’s fine.”

…That was easy. Too easy.

I narrowed my eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes. You don’t have to marry Brandon if you don’t want to.”

Okay, now I was suspicious.

I crossed my arms. “What’s the catch?”

His lips curled into something that almost looked like a smirk. “If you refuse, the Aston heir title will be transferred to Drake.”

My whole body went cold.

No.

He couldn’t be serious.

I glanced at Mr. Sullivan, hoping—praying—this was some kind of bluff. But the lawyer didn’t react. Didn’t even flinch.

My father wasn’t joking.

I forced myself to stay calm. “You’re saying… if I refuse to marry Brandon, you’ll make Drake the heir?”

“That’s right.”

“And you’ll have him marry someone from the Aston family instead.”

“Yes.”

My heart pounded. He meant it.

I had spent my whole life being groomed as the next head of the Aston family. Everything—every lesson, every expectation, every demand—had been for that one purpose.

And now, just like that, he was ready to throw it all away? Hand it over to Drake?

I could barely breathe.

I had always known my father preferred Drake. Everyone did. Drake was easier to handle. More charming, more obedient. He didn’t push back like I did. He didn’t question things.

If my father had the choice, he would pick him over me.

And now, he was giving me that choice.

Marry Brandon… or lose everything.

The silence stretched between us, suffocating.

Finally, I forced the words out. “Fine. I’ll do it, just don't remove me from the will.”

For the first time, my father looked satisfied. He nodded, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

“Good. Now get out.”

I turned on my heel and walked out of the study, my hands clenched into fists.

I was furious.

Not just at my father, but at Drake.

Because I knew—I just knew—he had something to do with this.

I stormed down the hallway and, as if on cue, there he was.

Drake had just come back from his morning run, towel slung over his shoulder, looking relaxed and oblivious. His white T-shirt was damp with sweat, his blond hair sticking to his forehead.

The moment he saw me, his face lit up. “Cam! You’re home early. Let's go play video games.”

I didn’t bother with greetings. “Did you tell Dad I didn’t want to get married?”

Drake’s smile faltered. “What?”

“You heard me.” I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “Did you tell him?”

Drake frowned. “No. Why would I? It's none of my business anyway.”

I stared at him, searching for any hint of a lie. Drake had always been good at pretending. Good at keeping secrets. But I knew him.

And I wasn’t stupid.

“You were the only one who knew,” I said, voice tight. “You’re the only person who’s ever been in Dad’s study. The only person who found my old photos.”

Drake stiffened.

Bingo, this fucking asshole.

I stepped even closer. “You’re the only one who knows.”

Drake’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t tell him, Cameron.”

“Really?” I let out a humorless laugh. “Then how did he find out?”

Drake didn’t answer.

I exhaled sharply and shook my head. “I don’t know what your game is, but stop interfering in my life.”

Drake’s brows furrowed. “I’m not—”

“I mean it.” My voice was low, dangerous. “Stay out of this. Don’t cause me any more problems.”

Drake’s expression flickered—something between hurt and guilt. But I didn’t care.

I just didn't care.

I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there in the hallway.

Back in my room, I sank onto my bed, running a hand down my face.

This was a disaster.

I didn’t want this marriage. I didn’t want Brandon.

But I had no choice.

Because if I refused… I’d lose everything.

And I wasn’t about to let that happen.