POV: BrandonWhen I opened the door and saw Cameron standing there, I thought maybe I was fucking dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or had finally lost my grip on reality and conjured him from sheer emotional burnout.But nope. There he was. On my porch. In real life. With messy hair, anxious eyes, and this strange energy rolling off him in waves.He looked like he’d sprinted across a battlefield and landed at my door like it was the last safe zone left.“You okay?” I asked, stepping out.His eyes darted everywhere—my shoes, the street, the crack in the sidewalk—anywhere but me. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.“I—uh—I didn’t know where else to go,” he finally said.I blinked. Okay. Definitely not a hallucination.“You wanna come in?” I asked gently, stepping aside.He nodded, sort of, but his feet didn’t move. It was like he was glued to the spot, one wrong move away from bolting.“Cameron?” I asked again, softer now.He looked up. Finally. And there was something in his ey
POV: CameronMy fingers tapped against my jeans like a broken metronome. One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. Useless rhythm for a heart that didn’t know how to calm the hell down.“Brandon’s place,” I told the driver, trying to sound cool, casual, not like my entire emotional life was in a blender on high speed.The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You okay, man?”I blinked. “Huh?”“You look like you just robbed a bank or lost your puppy. Or both.”I let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Neither. Just… I don’t know. Emotional crisis?”He raised an eyebrow. “Love stuff?”I stared at him for a second, thrown off. “How did you—?”He shrugged like it was obvious. “You’ve got ‘please don’t let them hate me’ energy. Plus, you said ‘Brandon’s place’ like it was sacred ground.”I slumped back into the seat. “Wow. I am so obvious.”“Nah,” he said, turning onto the main road. “Just human.”I looked out the window, watching buildings blur past. “He might hate me.”“But he
POV: CameronI stopped mid-step.My heart, already bruised and rattled, stumbled all over again.Hilda’s voice wasn’t sharp this time. It wasn’t smug or condescending or any of the million other tones she usually wore like armor. It was… small. Like something cracked open inside her.I turned slowly.She stood a few steps behind me, shoulders drawn in like the wind had finally gotten to her. Her perfectly composed expression was gone, replaced with something unfamiliar. Real.“Just wait,” she said again, quieter now. “There’s something I need to say.”I didn’t move closer. Didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure I could trust my voice not to break.She looked up at me, and for once, there was no power play in her eyes. Just… whatever was left when the games stopped.“I’m not going to stop the partnership,” she said. “The business stuff—it’s still on. You’re still in. But I won’t interfere with your personal life. I won’t come between you and Brandon I give up and I won’t do anything again.”I bli
POV: CameronI couldn’t speak.No words, no witty comeback, no power-move one-liner. Nothing.I just stood there in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot while Hilda’s offer echoed in my skull like a bad remix on loop.“Forget Brandon. Marry me.”My mouth was dry. My heart felt like it was trying to punch its way out of my chest. And suddenly, it wasn’t just about Hilda’s creepy power play or my father’s expectations—it was about me. What I was about to become. Or lose.Brandon’s face flashed in my mind—him laughing at my terrible cooking, him holding my hand under the table at that dinner, him pulling me into his arms when I couldn’t even stand to look at myself.And the way he looked at me like I was already enough. Always enough.I sucked in a sharp breath.“Hilda…” My voice cracked a little, but I didn’t care. “I’m not doing this.”Her expression didn’t change. Not even a flicker. “Doing what?”“This.” I gestured between us like there was an invisible contract floating in the a
POV: CameronShe was halfway down the sidewalk when I burst out of the café, practically tripping over a waiter and someone’s tiny designer dog.“Hilda!” I shouted, breathless, the cold air slapping my face like I deserved it.She didn’t stop.I chased her, heart pounding, not from the sprint but from everything boiling under my skin. When I finally caught up to her, she turned slowly like she had all the time in the world, expression calm and cruel as ever.“You’re really going to just walk away after that?” I asked, my voice too loud, too raw. “Drop a bomb on me and expect me to go home like I just bought groceries instead of getting blackmailed?”She arched an eyebrow. “You’re still dramatic, I see.”I ignored that. “Why are you doing this?”She paused, lips curling slightly. “Because you needed a reality check.”“That’s not an answer,” I snapped. “You want to block the deal, then fine. You want to test my loyalty or whatever, sure. But dragging Brandon into it—turning this into so
POV: CameronI shouldn’t have agreed to meet her.Even as I sat there in the booth of this sleek downtown café that smelled like money and vanilla bean, I knew it was a trap. The kind of place where people wore tailored coats and pretended their cold brews were personality traits.Hilda slid into the seat across from me without saying a word. Her coat was sharp-shouldered and probably custom. Her nails were freshly done, black with tiny silver lines—like daggers that could also sign contracts. She didn’t smile. Didn’t even fake one. Just raised a perfectly sculpted brow like I was a pop quiz she already knew the answers to.“Cameron,” she said finally, drawing my name out like a cigarette drag. “I was curious how far you’d go.”I didn’t flinch. I came here with a plan, and I was going to stick to it. Even if her energy felt like a black hole trying to suck me into some kind of villain monologue.“I’m not here to fight,” I said, sliding the file across the table. “This is what I came f