Chapter 5

Cameron’s POV

The moment I stepped into my apartment, I locked the door behind me and headed straight for my study. My mind was still spinning from the conversation with my father, from the way he had so easily thrown away everything I’d worked for.

But I wasn’t going to let him win.

I strode to my desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. A small key sat hidden beneath some papers. I grabbed it, inserted it into the locked compartment, and turned.

Click.

The drawer slid open, revealing a neat stack of photographs.

My chest tightened.

I reached for the top one, my fingers brushing against the edges as I picked it up.

It was an old picture—one from when I was about ten. In the photo, I stood grinning, my small hands gripping a wooden swing. Behind me, gently pushing the swing, was her.

Erica.

I swallowed hard as I traced her face with my thumb. She had always been there. From the moment my mother passed away, Erica had been the only one who made things bearable. She was older—five years older, to be exact—but she had never treated me like a kid.

She had been my rock. My safe place.

And now, she was the only thing keeping me from breaking completely.

I stared at her smile, the warmth in her eyes frozen in time. This is for her.

If I had to marry Brandon to secure my inheritance, then fine. I would do it. I would get the title, the money—everything. And then, I’d walk away.

I’d find Erica, confess everything, and finally—finally—live the life I wanted.

But first, I needed to set things straight.

The next morning, I woke up with a heavy weight in my chest. The reality of everything hit me all over again—the marriage, the inheritance, my father’s threats. I didn’t have time to waste.

I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found Brandon’s number. My thumb hovered over the call button for a second before I pressed it.

The phone rang once. Then twice.

I tapped my fingers against the desk, my heartbeat drumming in sync with the ringing.

Then, finally—

Click.

“Cameron?” Brandon’s voice came through the line, slightly groggy, like I’d woken him up.

I didn’t care. “We need to meet.”

There was a pause. I could hear him shifting, probably sitting up in bed. “Right now?”

“Yes. Now.”

A beat of silence. Then, with a sigh, “Alright. Where?”

“The café downtown. Thirty minutes.”

“Cameron, it’s barely eight in the morning—”

“Thirty minutes,” I repeated, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Brandon let out another sigh, this one longer, heavier. “Fine. See you there.”

I hung up before he could say anything else.

I stared at my phone for a moment, exhaling slowly.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

******

The café was quiet when I arrived, just the way I liked it. A few early-morning customers were scattered around, either lost in their laptops or chatting in hushed tones. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the faint sweetness of pastries, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere.

Brandon was already there, sitting by the window, absentmindedly stirring his coffee with a spoon. The soft morning light cast a glow on his face, highlighting the sharp edges of his expression. He looked deep in thought—until he noticed me.

His eyes flicked up, cool and unreadable. “You’re late.”

I didn’t bother responding to that. Instead, I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down, leaning forward with my elbows on the table.

“We need to talk,” I said.

Brandon let go of the spoon and leaned back, crossing his arms. “I figured. That’s usually why people meet up at ungodly hours.”

I ignored the sarcasm and met his gaze. “I’ve made my decision.”

His fingers curled around his coffee cup, his expression giving nothing away. “And?”

I took a breath. This was the part where everything changed. The part where I gave up the fight—at least on the surface.

“I’ll marry you.”

Brandon blinked. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but then he stopped. He studied me, searching for something in my face.

I didn’t let him find it.

“But it’ll be a fake marriage.” I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. “Strictly business.”

Brandon’s expression didn’t change. “And why should I agree to that?”

I met his gaze. “Because we both know this isn’t about love. It’s about convenience. My father wants me married, and I need my inheritance.”

He exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers against the table. “So that’s all this is to you? A deal?”

“Yes.”

Brandon tilted his head slightly, watching me. “And what happens after?”

“I end it.” I shrugged. “Simple.”

Something flashed in his eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was amusement, frustration, or something else entirely.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Fine.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Good.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, just as I was about to change the subject, Brandon asked, “Why are you in such a hurry?”

I tensed.

I could have lied. I could have just brushed it off as a necessity. But something in his tone—something too knowing—made me pause.

I hesitated for a beat, then sighed. “Because I have a reason to.”

Brandon’s fingers stilled against the cup. “What reason?”

I hesitated again, it wasn't his business to know anything about me.

But still, against my better judgment, I told him anyway.

“I’m straight.”

Brandon’s entire body stiffened.

I kept going. “There’s someone I’ve liked for a long time. A girl, and I will make her mine.”

His expression changed. It was quick—so quick that if I hadn’t been watching, I would have missed it.

His grip on his coffee tightened just slightly. His jaw clenched, but only for a second. And then, just as quickly, his face smoothed out.

“Oh.”

That was it.

Just a fucking oh.

I stared at him, waiting for… something. Some kind of reaction.

But Brandon only gave me a small, unreadable smile. “I see.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not surprised?”

He set his cup down gently and looked at me with a cool stare. “Does it fucking matter?”

I didn’t answer.

For some reason, I felt like I had just stepped onto unstable ground.

Brandon exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Well,” he said, voice casual, “I guess that makes things simpler.”

I frowned. “Simpler?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “If this is just a business arrangement, then it’s easier for both of us, isn’t it? No messy emotions. No expectations.”

I stared at him. Something about the way he said that didn’t sit right with me.

But I ignored it.

“Right,” I said slowly. “Exactly.”

Brandon gave me another small smile. “Then I guess we have a deal.”

I nodded. “We do.”

He reached out, extending his hand across the table.

I hesitated for half a second before shaking it.

His grip was firm, steady.

I wasn’t sure why, but my stomach twisted.

Something about this felt… off.

But there was no turning back now.