Camille pressed her lips together. If memory served, Julian knew about the tension between her and the Stowells.She thought back to one of Anita's birthdays, the year Greg and Erica had both shown up.Greg had drunk too much and said things he shouldn't have, and Camille could still picture the expressions on the Hatchers' faces that night.At the time, she had stepped forward to stop Greg, but he shoved her aside. When she fell, a glass shattered, slicing into her palm.She hadn't blamed him. He'd been drunk, careless, nothing more. What gnawed at her was Julian, standing by in silence, not a single word of concern.And now, he was pretending to care?Camille's gaze went distant. "Is it even worth asking?"Julian scoffed lightly. "Pathetic."Camille clenched her fists, her face draining of color."You hold the name of Hatcher, and you're still getting hit. What else would you call it but pathetic?" Julian taunted, then drained the glass in his hand.His words were the sort
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