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Chapter One

I managed to get away from the party and climb the staircase to the room I shared with my fiancé, Lucas. It was our engagement party, and after the official gathering with Lucas's parents at their company, we decided to head back to his townhouse and party with just our friends. His friends, actually. His friends were snobs who didn't like associating with people from the lower class. Lucas was super rich, and that meant all his friends were rich too. I, on the other hand, was from a poor family and worked in Lucas's family's company as a junior staff member. That was how we met and fell in love. Many people were against our relationship, especially his parents, but he defied them and engaged me. So now they just had to ignore me because there was nothing else they could do.

I stumbled my way to the hallway where the rooms were. I opened the knob on my right and let myself into the room. The room was already filled with light. I took off my shoes and clothes and climbed into the bed, my eyelids heavy and my body swaying slightly from the haze. I had drunk just two glasses, but I was very drunk. I just wanted to sleep till the next day.

I was just about to doze off when I felt a manly hand wrap around my waist, followed by a deep sigh. I smiled to myself, my lips curving lazily in the dim glow. Lucas. The man moved closer to me, and I could feel him press his body against mine, his warmth enveloping me like a blanket. I could feel his hard-on press against my back. I arched my hips instinctively, a soft hum escaping my throat, so that it could nestle between my butt crack. His hands crept up slowly, fingers tracing my skin, and cupped my breasts, his grip firm yet teasing.

"Hmmmm," I moaned sleepily, my voice muffled against the pillow, my eyes fluttering shut in contentment.

He took that as encouragement, his breath quickening against my ear, as he squeezed my breasts and pinched my nipples, sending sparks through my body. I was now moaning loudly from his touch, my back arching slightly, and I adjusted my position so that his cock, which was already rock hard, was against the entrance of my pussy.

He leaned down, his stubble grazing my skin, and latched onto the side of my neck, biting and kissing with a hungry intensity that made me gasp. I knew that I would have a hickey on my neck, the mark blooming red under his lips, but I didn't care. I felt so horny that it didn't matter to me that people were having a party downstairs, their laughter faintly echoing up the stairs.

I took one of his big veiny hands, feeling the rough texture of his palm, and guided it to my pussy, which was already wet from what we were doing. His fingers slipped down from my clit to my folds, coating them with my juices, and he brought them to my nipple. He pinched the nipple so hard that I jerked against him, a sharp cry leaving my lips, and then moaned when the pain subsided into a throbbing pleasure. He repeated the action again, except this time he brought his fingers to my mouth. Without even thinking about it, I closed my lips around his fingers and sucked on them like my life depended on it, my tongue swirling greedily. My actions surprised me—I had never considered myself a sex freak to do something like that. I had always stuck with the traditional vanilla sex. Maybe it was the alcohol, but whatever it was, I loved it, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement.

He returned his finger to my clit and rubbed gently against it, his touch light but insistent, building the pressure inside me. He kept on rubbing my clit until my orgasm tore into me, and I screamed, my body convulsing, fists clenching the sheets as waves of ecstasy rolled through me.

I was still coming down from my high, my chest heaving with ragged breaths, my skin tingling, when I felt him lift my legs, his strong hands gripping my thighs firmly. The next thing I felt was his erection against my pussy. When I felt the head against my opening, I froze, my brows furrowing in confusion. He was definitely bigger than he usually was. Was it the alcohol? Did alcohol make men bigger?

Before I could find an answer, he started pushing into my pussy, and I forgot everything that was on my mind, my thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. Fuck, he felt divine. I could feel his cock stretching my pussy walls, my inner muscles clenching around him involuntarily. He was definitely bigger. And thicker. I could feel the veins on his cock pulsing against me. I could feel his tip rubbing along my cervix in an oddly pleasurable, yet somewhat uncomfortable caress. My cunt continued to expand and swallow his cock, my hips shifting restlessly to accommodate him.

He kept on pushing until he was buried to the hilt. I had never felt so full. It was like I could feel him everywhere, my toes curling and my fingers digging into the mattress. I felt like he’d already hit the end of me. He came to a halt. He was completely still inside of me now, waiting for me to adjust, and to let the tight grip of my cunt relax. His breath was harsh in my ear, hot and uneven, and I could tell he was holding himself in check, his body tense against mine.

I pushed myself closer to him as a sign of encouragement, my ass grinding back against his hips with a needy wiggle. Luckily, he understood it and started moving his hips, his hands tightening on my waist. At first, he started with a slow and deep movement, each thrust deliberate, making me whimper softly. Then it got harder—he would withdraw almost entirely, leaving me empty and aching, and then slam back into my pussy with force, his hips snapping forward. Then, he started thrusting faster into me. I could feel an orgasm building swiftly, my face contorting in pleasure, mouth open in silent gasps.

“It feels so good. Don't stop,” I said, reaching down between my legs and touching myself, my fingers circling my clit frantically.

He increased the tempo and started pounding into me roughly, his grunts mixing with the slap of skin on skin.

"You like that, don't you?" he groaned into my ear, his voice low and gravelly.

My body froze for a second, a shiver running down my spine. Even with the blurry state of my mind, I knew that wasn't Lucas's voice. Was my mind playing tricks with me? My eyes widened slightly in the darkness, but the fog of arousal clouded my thoughts.

Before I could ponder on it, I felt him bite on the sensitive spot on my neck, his teeth grazing just right, and that made me explode. My head tossed back as I moaned out my release, my neck exposed, body shuddering violently. I could feel tremors in my pussy, and my legs were shaking uncontrollably, quivering in his grasp, that he had to hold my legs still to continue pounding hard into me.

I felt my back arch on its own, as my body pushed itself down on him, trying to take him completely inside, my muscles straining with effort.

“Don’t stop. Make me cum again for your cock,” I pleaded, the pleasure I felt making me delirious to my actions, my voice breathy and desperate. I had never been this wild in the bed before. He heeded my pleas and went faster, his pace relentless, so that I kept cumming without stop, one orgasm blending into the next, my cries echoing in the room.

He nipped my ear with his sharp teeth before growling, “I’m going to cum so hard and so far inside of your sweet tight little pussy."

All of a sudden, he let out a howl and began to unload spurt after spurt of hot sticky cum deep in my pussy, his body jerking with each release, his fingers digging into my hips. My pussy milked every last drop from him until his balls were empty, my walls contracting rhythmically around him.

I felt him kiss my neck softly, his lips lingering tenderly—something he had never done in the past. He had always left to clean up himself the moment he was done. Something about the kiss was so soothing, warm and gentle against my flushed skin, that I dozed off immediately, my body relaxing completely.

Chapter Two

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the headache. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to my skull. I groaned, pressing my palms against my temples, and swore to myself I’d never touch alcohol again in my life. The next thing I noticed was the soreness between my legs, my pussy felt like it had been scraped raw, a dull ache pulsing with every slight movement. Confusion hit me like a wave. I peeled my eyes open, wincing at the light filtering through the curtains, and my heart lurched. This wasn’t my room. Where the hell was I?

I sat up slowly, clutching the sheets to my chest, and thankfully, the pounding in my head started to ease. I blinked, taking in my surroundings, and a flicker of recognition sparked. I knew this room. It was the guest room opposite the one I shared with Lucas. It was the room I used to stay in when I first started visiting him, back when we were just dating, before we got engaged. But what was I doing here?

I was still lost in my thoughts, my brow furrowed as I tried to piece together the night, when I noticed movement on the bed beside me. My head snapped to the side, and I saw a man lying there, his chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. At first, my foggy brain thought it was Lucas but as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I looked closer. Horror clawed at my chest, my breath catching in my throat. This wasn’t Lucas.

I scrambled out of the bed, dragging the sheets with me to cover my naked body. My legs trembled as I stumbled backward, my eyes locked on the stranger. Thankfully, he didn’t stir, his face relaxed in deep sleep, one arm flung carelessly over the pillow.

Who was this man? What was he doing in this bed? Why was I in this bed? Why was I sore... My eyes widened as realization crashed over me like a bucket of ice water. No… no… no. Oh my God, what have I done?

This couldn’t be happening to me. Panic surged, my hands shaking as I clutched the sheets tighter. Lucas would be furious if he walked in and saw me like this, tangled in bed with a stranger. I had to leave. Now. I rushed to the floor, my movements frantic as I gathered my clothes. My dress was crumpled in a heap and my shoes were scattered. I dressed as quickly as my trembling fingers allowed, my breath hitching with every sound from the house, terrified someone might catch me. When I was done, I crept to the door, my bare feet silent against the hardwood. I peeked into the hallway, my pulse racing, and when I saw it was empty, I bolted, running toward the front door like my life depended on it.

Once outside, the cool morning air hit my face, snapping me further awake. I hailed a cab, my voice shaky as I gave the driver my apartment address. I realized too late I didn’t have my purse. Desperate, I begged the security guard at Lucas’s townhouse to lend me some cash to pay the fare. He gave me a curious look but handed over a few bills, and I thanked him profusely before the cab sped off.

When I finally reached the safety of my apartment, I collapsed against the door, sliding to the floor as sobs tore through me. My chest heaved, tears streaming down my face, smudging last night’s makeup. I didn’t even remember what happened, but I knew with sickening certainty that I had slept with that stranger. The soreness, the unfamiliar fullness I could still feel...it was undeniable.

How would I tell Lucas I had slept with someone else? He would be livid. He wouldn’t care that I was drunk, that I could barely piece together the night. God, I might lose him. The thought made my sobs come harder, my hands clutching my knees as I rocked back and forth on the cold floor.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, curled up and crying, but the shrill ring of my house phone cut through the haze. My heart jumped, fear spiking that somehow everyone already knew what I’d done. I shook my head at the ridiculous thought and pushed myself up, my legs wobbly as I shuffled to the phone.

“Hello?” I said, picking it up. It was a miracle my voice came out steady despite the storm raging inside me.

“Camille? Oh, thank God. I was worried about you. Where are you?” Lucas’s voice was laced with concern, and my stomach twisted with guilt.

“I’m at my apartment,” I said, my fingers tightening around the receiver.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” I forced a lightness into my tone. 

“I don’t know. It’s just weird that you rushed off to your house so early. Your bag’s still here.”

“Yeah, I forgot it,” I mumbled, my mind racing for an excuse."I was so desperate to get off the party dress that I forgot my purse." 

“Your clothes are in the house." He pointed out. "Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. I… I forgot I had practically moved in,” I lied, biting my lip.

“Is it that time of the month?”

“Yes,” I seized the excuse, relief flooding me. “It came so early, and I had to leave. I’m sorry, babe.”

“No need. I understand.” His voice softened, and I could picture him running a hand through his dark hair, his brow creasing slightly. “You do remember we’re having dinner with my parents this evening, right?”

Shit. I had completely forgotten. My stomach sank. I wasn’t looking forward to it then, and I definitely wasn’t now. The last thing I needed was to face his parents, who had never hidden their disapproval of me. 

“Yeah, I remember,” I said, my voice flat. “I’ll be at the house by six.”

“Okay. Take care. And please wear something…”

“Classy. I know,” I finished for him, my lips pressing into a thin line.

“Why don’t you wear something from our last shopping trip? Mom would really warm up to you if she sees you putting in an effort to fit into our world.”

“Of course, babe. Erm, I need to go. I have a lot of things to do today.” I needed to end this call before I broke down again.

“Cool. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah. Love yo...” The line went dead before I could finish. I stared at the phone, my heart sinking further, before gently placing it back on the receiver. At least Lucas didn’t know what happened last night. I still had time to figure out what to do.

By 5:30, I was back at Lucas’s house, dressed in a sleek navy dress from our last shopping trip, my hair pulled into an elegant updo to mask how frazzled I felt. We headed to his parents’ estate together,. Throughout the short journey, my fingers twisted nervously in my lap.

Lucas’s parents lived in a private estate, their sprawling mansion a testament to their status as one of Chicago’s richest families. Their company, Vaughmont Breweries, founded by Lucas’s great-grandfather and his friend, had flourished over generations, its name synonymous with wealth and power. As we pulled up to the iron gates, my nerves tightened like a coiled spring. It felt like everyone already knew what I’d done, like this dinner was a trap to humiliate me.

“Hey,” Lucas said, his hand closing over mine as I lingered at the foot of the front steps. His touch was warm but it only deepened my guilt.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange since we started driving. Are you okay?” His green eyes searched mine, concern etched into his handsome face.

“Yes, I am,” I lied, forcing a small smile, my lips trembling slightly.

“Are you sure? You know how my parents are. I want you to be at your best at this dinner. I was hoping they’d warm up to you.”

“I understand. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine,” I said, squeezing his hand back, though my stomach churned.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Together, we walked into the house.  The housekeeper, a stern woman with gray streaks in her hair, informed us that his parents were already in the dining room, and we made our way there, my heart pounding with every step.

“You’re late,” Mrs. Cecil Vaughan said the moment we stepped into the dining room, her voice sharp as she adjusted her pearl necklace, her eyes narrowing at me.

“I’m sorry. We got caught up in traffic,” Lucas said smoothly, walking over to his mother. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, his charm effortless. Then he turned to his father. “Hello, Father.”

Mr. Everett Vaughan merely nodded, his face impassive as he continued cutting into his steak. Lucas took his seat beside his mother, and I followed, settling opposite him, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Vaughan,” I said, my voice steady despite the cold reception. As expected, they didn’t respond, didn’t even glance my way words.

The dinner went on, the conversation flowing solely between Lucas and his parents. They discussed work, the latest Vaughmont deals, and random society gossip. Lucas didn’t try to include me, and I didn’t bother inserting myself, my fork pushing food around my plate as I kept my eyes down. 

When the second course was about to be served, I heard the faint chime of the doorbell. My head tilted slightly, curious.

“Oh, finally. He’s here,” Mrs. Cecil said, her face lighting up with a rare, genuine smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. It was the happiest I’d ever seen her about someone’s presence. Was someone joining us for dinner?

I turned to Lucas, my brow furrowing. “Is someone else joining us for dinner?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” he said, his tone casual as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “My best friend is here in Chicago.”

“Your best friend?” I blinked, caught off guard. Lucas had never mentioned a best friend before.

“Yes. He flew in yesterday to attend the engagement party, but his plane arrived late. He was at the house last night for the party, but he didn’t really mingle much. You must have seen him.”

Seen him? I didn’t even know he had a best friend, let alone that he was in Chicago. A pang of hurt twisted in my chest that Lucas hadn’t shared something so important, but I pushed it down.

I was about to respond when I heard footsteps behind me from the entrance. Lucas stood from his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face as he walked toward the newcomer.

“Hey, man!” he called, his voice warm.

Mrs. Cecil’s smile widened, her hands clasping together. “Damien, it’s so nice to finally see you. I almost thought you wouldn’t be able to tear yourself away from work.”

“And miss seeing Lucas one last time before he’s off the market? Not a chance,” a deep voice replied. 

“Speaking of,” Lucas said, turning back to me, “Camille, I want you to meet my best friend.”

Still stinging from the fact that Lucas hadn’t told me about his best friend, I mustered the best fake smile I could, smoothing my dress as I stood from the chair. I turned and moved toward Lucas, but before I could reach him, my eyes met the eyes of his best friend.

I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat, my heart stopping as if someone had yanked the plug from my chest. My eyes refused to believe what they were seeing.

It was the man from last night. The man I had slept with.

Chapter Three

I stared at Camille, my jaw tight, masking the storm of emotions churning inside me. She looked scared-terrified, even- her wide eyes darting nervously, her face pale as if she’d seen a ghost. I could only imagine what was racing through her mind. I was shocked too, seeing her standing there, but I buried it deep, my expression cool and controlled, betraying nothing.

Beneath the shock, anger simmered. Did she know who I was when she threw herself at me last night? I couldn’t believe the woman I’d slept with was my best friend’s fiancée.

“Camille,” Lucas said, his voice snapping her back to reality, his brow furrowing slightly as he noticed her frozen stance.

She blinked, realization dawning that she’d been staring at me strangely in front of Lucas and his parents. Her lips parted, and she forced a shaky smile, her fingers twitching at her sides.

“Are you okay? Your face is as white as a sheet,” Lucas asked, concern lacing his tone, his hand reaching for hers. If only he knew why she looked like she was about to bolt.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, her voice a touch too high, her eyes flicking to me before darting away.

Lucas’s gaze shifted between us, his eyes narrowing slightly, suspicion creeping into his expression. “Do you two know each other?” he asked, his tone careful, searching.

Camille opened her mouth, but I cut in before she could speak. “No, we don’t.”

She looked shocked at my response, her eyes widening briefly, her lips parting as if she couldn’t believe I’d lied. Did she think I’d announce to Lucas, over his parents’ dining table, that his fiancée was the woman I’d fucked last night? That she’d moaned and writhed under me while a party raged downstairs?

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said after a beat, her voice steadying, though her hands trembled slightly as she smoothed her dress. “Lucas has said a lot about you.”

I nodded, playing along, my lips curving into a polite smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I hope it’s the good stuff.”

Lucas seemed to relax, his shoulders loosening as he pulled Camille closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. My eyes flicked to his hand, possessive and deliberate, a clear message: she’s mine. I forced my gaze away.

“Camille, this is my best friend, Damien Montgomery,” Lucas said, his voice warm with pride. “Damien, this is my fiancée, Camille Hunt.”

I extended my hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I said, my tone neutral, though my eyes locked onto hers, daring her to keep up the charade.

She eyed my hand warily, her fingers hesitating before brushing against mine in the briefest handshake, her skin cold and clammy. She jerked her hand back quickly, as if burned, her cheeks flushing. If she didn’t want Lucas to suspect anything, she needed to get her act together. Her nervousness was practically screaming guilt.

“Why don’t we all sit and finish dinner?” Cecil said, her voice cutting through the tension, as she gestured to the table.

We took our seats and resumed the dinner. Camille kept stealing glances at me, her eyes darting nervously every time I moved, as if she expected me to drop the bombshell at any moment. I could practically hear her heart pounding, her fear palpable. She sat rigid, her fork trembling slightly as she pushed food around her plate.

Strangely, I was attuned to her every movement, too. Without looking directly at her, I noticed the way her fingers gripped her glass too tightly, the way her breath hitched when our eyes accidentally met. It disturbed me, this hyper-awareness of her. I didn’t want anything to do with her....not after last night. Besides the fact that she was my best friend’s fiancée, she was clearly a gold digger, clawing her way into Lucas’s world. I didn’t mess with women like that.

Thankfully, Cecil spoke up, pulling my attention away from Camille’s anxious fidgeting. “So, Damien, how has work been? You’ve barely made time to visit us since you moved to London,” she said, her tone warm, her perfectly manicured fingers resting on her wine glass.

I leaned back in my chair, forcing a casual smile. “Just been busy. The business requires my presence a lot.”

Cecil nodded, her lips pursed in understanding. “I get it. Business before pleasure.”

“Exactly,” I said, my gaze sliding to Camille for a moment before returning to Cecil. “Though it’s nice to see Lucas finally settling down. Never thought I’d see the day.” I turned to Camille, my voice taking on a teasing edge. “I’m curious about the woman who managed to get Lucas to agree to walk down the aisle. How did you two meet?”

Camille was poking at her food, her fork scraping softly against the plate, but she didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t even seem to hear me, her eyes distant, lost in thought. Lucas tapped her gently on the arm, his brow creasing.

“Camille?” he prompted.

She jolted, her head snapping up, her eyes meeting everyone’s at the table. Mrs. Cecil’s face twisted with irritation, her lips thinning- she clearly didn’t approve of Camille. That made two of us.

“Yes?” Camille said, her voice small, her cheeks flushing under the scrutiny.

“Damien asked you a question,” Lucas said, his tone patient but firm.

“Oh. Sorry, I got lost for a moment,” she mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

I gave her a chilling smile, my eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s alright. I asked how you two met. It’s just surprising that Lucas would want to settle down after knowing you for, what, like two months?”

“Three months,” she corrected quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’ve known each other for three months. We met in the lobby of the company. I was working as a receptionist…”

That caught my attention. I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “You’re a receptionist? Really?” I glanced at Lucas, my tone laced with disbelief. “A receptionist? Really?” Lucas had never been one to dally with the help, let alone fall for one.

Camille’s eyes flashed with offense, her chin lifting slightly. “Yes. Is there a problem?” she asked, her voice sharper now, though her hands still trembled in her lap.

“No, I’m just intrigued,” I said, my smile tight. “Lucas never seemed like the type to go after junior staff.”

“Our status didn’t matter to us,” she said, her voice gaining strength as she glanced at Lucas, her eyes softening. “It was love at first sight.”

Lucas smiled at her, his hand squeezing her shoulder, but I couldn’t shake the unease curling in my gut. Love at first sight? Or a calculated move to climb the social ladder? I leaned back, watching her closely, the memory of last night burning in my mind. Whatever game she was playing, I wasn’t about to let her drag Lucas or me down with her.

Chapter Four

“Hmm,” I responded absentmindedly, swirling the brandy in my glass, my mind still reeling from the dinner. “I’m so elated for you.” The words tasted bitter, forced. “I really wish I could make it to the wedding, but I can’t. I’ll be extremely busy then.” After what happened last night, there was no way in hell I was showing up to their wedding. I didn’t trust Camille one bit. Who knew what she’d try to pull in a room full of people?

Lucas tilted his head, his brow creasing slightly. “You don’t even know when the wedding will take place.”

I winced inwardly, cursing my slip-up. Now it sounded like I was dodging the event for no reason. “I know it’ll be soon, considering how fast you’re moving,” I said smoothly, recovering. “And right now, I’ve got an important deal I’m closing in Seoul. I won’t be around much, which is why I canceled everything to be here. Once the deal’s done, I’ll definitely visit you two lovebirds. Who knows, maybe by then I’ll have a little godson or goddaughter on the way.” I flashed a teasing grin, hoping to steer the conversation away from my blunder.

Cecil interjected.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have plenty of time for that.”

I nodded, raising my wine glass. “Of course. Let’s cheer to the new couple.” My voice was steady, but my eyes flicked to Camille, who hesitated, her fingers tightening around her glass before she reluctantly lifted it.

“Cheers,” Lucas said, clinking his glass against mine, his smile wide. The rest followed, though Camille’s movements were stiff, her lips barely touching the rim of her glass.

When dinner finally ended, Cecil wasn’t done with her questions. “How long will you be staying in Chicago, Damien?”

“I’m leaving tonight,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “I’ve got a meeting tomorrow. My things are already on the private jet.”

Lucas looked surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “So soon?”

From the corner of my eye, I caught the relief flooding Camille’s face, her shoulders sagging slightly, her lips parting in a quiet exhale. She thought she was off the hook. Not quite.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at Lucas. “I would’ve loved to stay longer, but work won’t let me.”

Lucas clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grin returning. “Well, since you’re leaving so early, you’re spending the rest of the night with me. You owe me a drinking session. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Cecil stood, smoothing her dress. “You two go ahead. Everett and I are tired and need to sleep.” With that, she and Lucas’s father swept out of the room, leaving just me, Lucas, and Camille.

I glanced at Camille, who sat there looking like a startled dove, her eyes wide and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I knew better now than to buy her innocent act.

“What about her?” I asked, nodding toward her, my tone neutral but pointed.

Camille’s head snapped up, her voice rushed. “Oh, I’m fine. I can stay here and wait.”

I didn’t want to spend another second around her, but leaving her alone felt like giving her a chance to spin some story. “You can come with us,” I said, my voice flat, daring her to refuse.

“No need,” she said quickly, her fingers twisting the edge of her napkin. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Okay,” I said, shrugging, letting it go. Let her stew in her guilt.

Lucas turned to her, his tone gentle. “You can ask the housekeeper if you need anything.”

We left the dining room and headed to the liquor room, the air between us lighter without Camille’s nervous energy. I sank into one of the plush leather sofas, the scent of aged wood and whiskey filling the space. Lucas went to the bar, pouring us each a glass of brandy, the amber liquid catching the light.

“Here you go,” he said, handing me a glass before settling into the sofa across from me.

“Thanks, man.” I took a sip, savoring the burn, then set the glass on the table. After last night with Camille, I wasn’t touching alcohol around her again. Not a chance.

Lucas raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “Really? You used to be a party animal. What happened?”

I chuckled, though it felt hollow. “I grew up. Plus, I’m still nursing a bit of a hangover from the jetlag and the alcohol I had yesterday.” The lie came easily, but my mind flashed to last night—Camille’s moans, her body arching under me. I shoved the thought away.

“You totally missed out on all the fun last night,” Lucas said, shaking his head. “What were you even doing after you left the party?”

Screwing your fiancée senseless? The thought popped into my head and I crushed it immediately, my jaw tightening. “Sleeping, actually,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I went to one of your guest rooms and dozed off. Left this morning.”

“You could’ve stayed so we could spend more time together,” Lucas said, his tone almost wistful. “We barely see each other anymore.”

“We’ve been busy running companies,” I said, steering the conversation toward safer ground. “And one of us now has all his time dedicated to a woman.” I raised an eyebrow, keeping my tone light but probing.

Lucas just smiled, taking a sip from his glass, his eyes softening. I pushed further, careful to sound uninterested. “I never thought I’d see the day a woman would tame you.”

He scoffed, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “As if any woman could ever tame me.”

Relief flickered through me. He wasn’t head over heels for her. That was good. It meant I wouldn’t completely shatter him when I eventually told him about last night. 

"What do you think about her?” he asked suddenly, catching me off guard as he poured himself another drink, his eyes on the glass.

I froze for a split second, my eyes narrowing before I caught myself. Why was he asking me that? I shrugged, playing it cool. “She’s okay.”

Lucas gave me a long look, his head tilting as if waiting for more.

“I mean, she’s beautiful,” I said, careful not to let my thoughts slip to how she’d felt under me, how she’d moaned. “Seems smart. A bit clumsy.”

He rolled his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I know all that. But I meant your personal opinion about her.”

This was my chance to plant a seed, to hint at the truth without blowing everything up. “I don’t know,” I said slowly, swirling my glass. “I think you should slow down on things.”

He didn’t look surprised, just curious. “Why?”

I wanted to tell him- God, I wanted to lay it all out. But the guilt gnawed at me. Telling him would strain our friendship, maybe break it. Lucas would think I’d slept with Camille on purpose, maybe to get back at him for something in the past. I hadn’t even known who she was when it happened- it hadn’t even crossed my mind until I saw her tonight. But I knew how Lucas’s mind worked. He’d have doubts, and I wasn’t about to lose my best friend over some gold-digging receptionist. So I went for a safer answer.

“Because it’s obvious she’s a gold digger who’s just around you for your money,” I said, my tone blunt but measured.

His brows shot up. “Are you saying a woman can’t love me unless I’m rich?”

“I’m not saying that,” I countered, leaning forward. “I just mean she’s using you as a social ladder. Maybe take things a bit slower, get to know more about her.”

“Your concern’s nice, but my mind’s made up,” he said, his voice firm, though his smile was easy. “She’s exactly what I want in a woman.”

I raised an eyebrow, unable to resist. “I thought you preferred socialites, models, actresses. Didn’t know you were into petty staff from your own company.” Camille was pretty, sure, but she wasn’t his type. That innocent-girl vibe had always annoyed him before. What had changed?

“I’m done with those types of women,” he said, leaning back, his expression resolute. “I want someone I can settle down with, have a family with. Camille wants that too. Plus, I can trust her to be more faithful than all the high-end ladies in Chicago.”

The irony hit me like a punch, and I nearly laughed, but I caught myself, my lips twitching into a tight smile. If only he knew. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said, forcing the words out. “I’m happy for your choice.”

I let it go. This wasn’t my mess to clean up. If Camille kept her mouth shut, so would I. For now, I’d watch her, wait for her to slip up. Because women like her always did.

Chapter Five

"I can't believe Josh literally did that." I practically choked the words out, my voice muffled with laughter as I leaned forward in my chair. I was with my coworker and friend, Doris, and she was spilling all the details about her disastrous date with another worker in the company.

I had been on edge since Damien left Chicago three weeks ago, my heart constantly racing, my stomach twisting into knots every time my phone buzzed or Lucas walked into a room. He had jetted off the day after that awful dinner, and surprisingly, he hadn’t breathed a word to Lucas about that night. I’d been terrified, waiting for the shoe to drop,for Damien to suddenly call or show up and shatter everything. But he hadn’t. It seemed like he was willing to keep his mouth shut, burying the secret as deep as I was trying to. I hadn’t mustered the courage to tell Lucas myself. I loved him too much; the thought of losing him made my chest ache with a hollow pain. But the guilt was a relentless monster, gnawing at me from the inside, leaving me sad and withdrawn for weeks. Doris’s company was a lifeline today, her gossip pulling me out of my head, making me laugh for the first time in what felt like forever. Maybe everything would be fine after all. Maybe I could move past it, pretend it never happened.

“Yeah,” Doris said, rolling her eyes dramatically, her lips pursing in annoyance. “I’m definitely not going out with him again. I literally felt so irked the whole time.”

“Well, I don’t really like him much anyway,” I replied, shaking my head with a small grimace,. “He has this very weird vibe about him.”

“Well, lucky you,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with envy as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “You’re out of the dating pool, and very soon you’ll be married. How long again?”

I sighed dreamily, a genuine smile tugging at my lips despite the weight in my heart, my hand instinctively touching the engagement ring on my finger. “Two weeks’ time. I literally can’t wait—this has been my dream for so long.”

Doris opened her mouth to respond, her eyebrows shooting up playfully, but her gaze shifted to something behind me, her expression turning mischievous. “Speaking of the devil, here comes your prince charming.”

I turned with a warm smile blooming on my face, expecting to see Lucas’s usual charming grin as he approached. But my heart plummeted when I saw him stomping toward me, his face a mask of fury, jaw clenched so tight the muscles bulged, brows furrowed deeply. His fists were balled at his sides.  Something was horribly wrong. My smile faded instantly, replaced by a knot of dread twisting in my gut. Oh God, did I mess up the files he asked me to compile? Lucas had been pushing for my promotion, giving me more responsibilities to prove I was worthy of a higher position in his family’s company. If it was that bad—if I’d screwed up enough to make him this mad—then the promotion was gone.

When he reached me, his chest was heaving with barely contained rage. I started to speak, my voice trembling slightly, my hands rising in a placating gesture. “Lucas, what’s wro.." But I couldn’t finish. His hand shot out, grabbing my arm in a vise-like grip, his fingers digging into my flesh with bruising force. He yanked me up from my seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and started dragging me out of the office area. Pain shot through my arm, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation burning in my cheeks as heads turned, whispers erupting around us. Coworkers stared with wide eyes and open mouths, their curiosity palpable, making my skin crawl.

I tried to wrench my arm free, my free hand prying at his fingers, my voice a desperate whisper. “Lucas, what’s wrong?” But he only tightened his hold, his nails biting into my skin, sending fresh waves of pain radiating up my arm. I winced, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I bit my lip to hold them back.

“Shut up, you fucking bitch,” he snarled, his voice low and venomous, his face inches from mine as he glanced back, his eyes blazing with betrayal. The words hit me like a slap, stealing my breath. He had never spoken to me like that. Never with such raw hatred, his lips curling in disgust.

He dragged me to the closest supply closet, shoving the door open with his shoulder and flinging me inside. I stumbled, catching myself against a shelf, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. He slammed the door shut behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot, and whirled to face me. His face was terrifying—red with fury, veins bulging in his neck,  his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. I pressed back against the wall, my body trembling, fear coiling in my stomach like ice.

“Lucas,” I whispered, my voice breaking, my hands raised defensively, tears now blurring my vision. “What’s wrong? Is it the file? I’m sorry if I made a mistake. I went through it like a million times…”

“I don’t care about the stupid file,” he spat, his voice rising, his hand slashing through the air dismissively. “Your test results came out today.”

I froze, my blood turning to ice, my eyes widening in confusion and dread. Over the past few days, I’d been feeling ill, nauseous and exhausted. Two people in the office had come down with the flu, so we’d chalked it up to that. Lucas had insisted on calling his family doctor to check me out and run some tests. But now, seeing the rage in his eyes, my mind raced. Was it serious? God, was I dying? 

“You’re pregnant,” he said, the words exploding from him through clenched teeth, his face contorting with fury, his body rigid as if he might snap.

The news hit me like a slap. I blinked rapidly, my mouth falling open, denial surging through me. No, that couldn’t be right. There had to be a mistake. My mind flashed to that night with Damien, the alcohol, the haze, the lack of protection. But I was on the pill. I couldn’t be that unlucky.

“No. No, I’m not,” I stammered, shaking my head frantically, my voice rising in pitch, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I can’t be.”

He yanked a crumpled letter from his pocket, his movements jerky and aggressive, and threw it at my face. The paper smacked against my cheek, stinging, before fluttering to the floor. “See for yourself,” he growled, his eyes boring into mine like daggers. “The doctor confirmed it.”

I snatched it up with trembling hands, my fingers fumbling as I unfolded it, my vision swimming with tears. I skimmed the contents desperately, my breath hitching, but my eyes locked on the damning words: positive pregnancy test. This couldn’t be happening. Panic clawed at my throat. I was supposed to be safe. The pill should have protected me. But deep down, a sickening truth settled: it was Damien’s. Oh God, what had I done?

“I know it’s not mine,” Lucas said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. 

Even I knew it probably wasn’t his, we hadn’t been intimate around that time. But I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t face the horror of it all. “I asked for the dates,” he continued, his lip curling in disgust. “It couldn’t possibly be mine. So now, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

I opened my mouth, words failing me but he cut me off, his voice thundering. “Don’t even dare lie. I’ll know if you do.”

“I’m so sorry,” I choked out, my voice cracking, sobs wracking my body as I sank against the wall. “I was going to tell you.”

He let out a dry, bitter laugh, throwing his head back.  “Was going to tell me?”

“I meant it,” I pleaded, stepping toward him, my hands outstretched, tears streaming down my face, my lower lip quivering. “I was scared at first, but I swear it was a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was drunk, and I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Who is the father?” he demanded, his voice rising.

“Lucas, please listen to me,” I begged, my voice hoarse, my body shaking uncontrollably. “I didn’t mean—”

“Who is the father, Camille?” he roared, leaning in close, his breath hot on my face, his eyes wild with rage.

“Lucas, please, I’m sorry,” I whimpered, covering my mouth with my hand, sobs muffling my words.

“Who is the father?” he shouted, slamming his palm against the wall beside my head, making me flinch.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, my eyes squeezing shut, shame flooding me. I could have told him who it was but I knew it would be a whole lot worse. Lucas would never forgive me if he found out that his best friend was the father. 

“You don’t know?” he echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief, his face twisting in revulsion.

“I was drunk, Lucas,” I cried, my knees buckling as I slid down the wall, hugging myself. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You fucking slut,” he snarled, pacing the small space like a caged animal, his hands raking through his hair in frustration. “How many times did it happen? Jesus, how many people have you fucked during our relationship?”

“Lucas, it was just that one time,” I sobbed, looking up at him through tear-streaked lashes, my face crumpled in despair. “It was a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was going to tell you, but I was scared of your reaction.”

“When were you going to tell me?” he mocked, his voice laced with sarcasm, his arms gesturing wildly. “When you’d passed the child off as mine? Huh?”

“I was never going to do that,” I insisted, shaking my head vehemently, my voice breaking with sincerity.

“I gave you everything you could ever wish for,” he hissed, pointing a finger accusingly at me.  “Made you relevant. Made you someone. And this is how you pay me back?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I whispered, my body heaving with sobs, my hands reaching out to him in vain. “I swear it.”

“Go to your desk and clear your things,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion now, his face hardening into stone as he turned away. “You’re fired.”

“Fired? You can’t fire me,” I gasped, my voice trembling with disbelief as I pushed myself up from the floor, my hands shaking as I braced against the wall. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Lucas’s face hardened, his dark eyes narrowing as he loomed over me, his jaw clenched tight with fury. “I don’t want you working in this company again. I’m giving you an hour to leave the premises, or I’ll call security.”

I stood fully now, my legs wobbly, my heart pounding in my chest as I faced him. “I haven’t done anything, Lucas. Just give me a chance to explain,” I pleaded, my voice cracking, my hands outstretched toward him in desperation.

“I don’t care what you have to say. You cheated on me,” he spat. "Nothing will justify what you did. I don’t want you in my life or in my office.”

“You can’t fire me,” I insisted, my tone rising with defiance, my hands clenching into fists as I wiped tears from my cheeks. “What happens in our private life doesn’t concern our work life. I haven’t done anything to warrant being fired.”

“It’s my company,” he snarled, stepping closer, his voice dripping with authority. “What I say goes here. I want you to leave this company, or I’ll have security throw you out.”

Lucas turned sharply, his movements stiff with anger, and moved toward the door. But he stopped, his hand on the knob, and turned back to me. His lips curled into a condescending sneer, his eyes cold and dismissive as he delivered the final blow. “Oh, and make sure you clear your things from my house. I don’t want to see a trace of you there.”

With that, he slammed the door behind him, the sound reverberating through the small closet like a gunshot, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts. The weight of it all crashed down, and I broke into tears, my sobs tearing from my throat as I slid back to the floor. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, my hands covering my mouth as I rocked back and forth. I had lost everything; my life, my job, my fiancé, all because of one stupid, drunken mistake.

I don’t know how long I sat there, lost in my grief, until the door creaked open. A security guard stepped in, his expression stern as he cleared his throat. “Miss, Mr. Vaughan asked us to escort you out of the building,” he said. 

He helped me to my feet, his strong hand steadying me as I wiped my face with my sleeve, my legs trembling beneath me. He led me to my office, where another guard was already packing my things into a box; my photos, my mug, my personal files. The office buzzed with curiosity, every head turning as I passed. Whispers followed me, and I felt the weight of their stares burning into my back. Most of the women watched with glee, their lips curling into smug smiles, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. It wasn’t a secret they’d wanted Lucas for themselves, and now, with my downfall, they reveled in it.

When my things were packed, the guards escorted me out of the building. They left me standing outside. My eyes were still red and puffy from crying. I had stopped sobbing, but the ache remained. Passersby glanced at me curiously but I had nowhere to go. I’d moved out of my apartment weeks ago to live with Lucas, and returning to his townhouse was out of the question.

I stood there, lost and hollow, my arms wrapped around myself, when Doris emerged from the building. Her face softened with concern as she hurried toward me.

“Camille, what happened?” she asked, her voice gentle, her brows knitting together as she took in my disheveled state.

“Oh dear,” she murmured, stepping closer and placing a hand on my arm. “Let’s get you home.”

“I can’t,” I whispered, my voice breaking, my eyes dropping to the ground. “Lucas… he said I shouldn’t come back.”

“Let’s go to my place,” she insisted, her hand squeezing my arm reassuringly.

“But… you still have work,” I protested weakly, my gaze flickering back to the office building.

“I took permission to leave,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, everyone’s worried about you. Let’s get out of here.”

She hailed a cab with, guiding me into the backseat with a protective arm around my shoulders.

Chapter Six

“Camille, come on, how long will you continue like this?” Doris said the moment she walked into the guest room after returning from work. She found me still lying on the bed, curled up under the thin blanket she’d given me, my face buried in the pillow. 

It had been a week since Lucas found out about the pregnancy and fired me, shattering our engagement and canceling our wedding. He hadn’t bothered to respond to my messages or calls. Once, I’d gathered the courage to visit his townhouse, hoping to explain, but the security guard turned me away at the gate. I felt utterly miserable, a hollow ache in my chest that deepened with every passing day, worsened by the nausea and exhaustion of the pregnancy. I was a mess- physically, emotionally, completely lost.

“I hurt him, of course he deserves to be angry,” I murmured quietly, my voice muffled against the pillow, my throat raw from crying. I was tired of having this same argument with Doris every time she tried to lift me out of my despair. Of course Lucas had every right to feel betrayed.

“You’ve already said it wasn’t intentional,” Doris countered, stepping closer and crossing her arms. . “You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened.”

“It’s my fault,” I whispered, turning my head slightly to meet her gaze. “I should have noticed it wasn’t Lucas. I should have known.”

“Come on, don’t beat yourself up over it,” she said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed beside me, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “It’s in the past now. The best thing to do is move on.”

“How can I possibly move on?” I asked, my voice breaking as I sat up slowly, my hands clutching the blanket to my chest. “I’ve lost my job, my fiancé. I don’t have anywhere to go, and I haven’t found a new job yet. In eight months, this baby will be here, and I’m not ready.” My voice cracked, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks as the reality of it all crashed over me again.

Doris sighed, her expression softening with sympathy as she squeezed my shoulder. “I still think you should consider giving the baby up for adoption,” she said gently.

I sighed inwardly, a familiar frustration bubbling up. Not again. She had suggested an abortion first and when I firmly rejected the idea.

"I want this child. It’s not its fault what happened. It’s innocent.”

“I’m not saying it’s guilty,” Doris replied, her voice rising slightly, her hands gesturing in frustration, “but clearly you’re not ready to be a mother. You don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” I insisted, my hands resting protectively over my still-flat stomach.

“Camille…” she started, her tone pleading, her eyes searching mine.

“Doris, please,” I interrupted, my voice weary, my head dropping into my hands. “Not now. I don’t have the energy for this.”

“You have to do something,” she pressed, standing up and pacing the small room. “You can’t stay here all day wallowing in your misery. Lucas is gone, accept it. You have to move on from him already, get your ass up, and get a job. Your fairytale life with Lucas is over.”

Her words hit me like a slap, and I turned to look at her, my mouth falling open in shock, my eyes wide with hurt. The harshness of her tone cut deep, and I felt a sting of betrayal. She must have seen it on my face because her eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as realization dawned.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said quickly, stepping toward me, her voice softening with regret, her hands outstretched in apology.

“No, I understand,” I said, my voice flat, my gaze dropping to the blanket as I pulled it tighter around me. “You’re tired of me staying here. I get it, no one wants a freeloader. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Camille, don’t be like that,” she pleaded, sitting back down and grabbing my hand. “Of course I want you here. You’re my friend.”

“You don’t have to explain,” I said, pulling my hand away gently, as I stared at the wall. “It’s your house. It’s okay if you want your privacy back.”

“I…” she began, but her words were cut off by the ring of her phone. A smile bloomed on her face, as she glanced at the screen. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. Take care,” she said hurriedly, standing and stepping out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

Despite the sting of Doris’s harsh words, I knew deep down she was right. I couldn’t keep spiraling like this, wallowing in the wreckage of what had been. It was time to let go of Lucas and shift my focus to what mattered most now: t baby. This child, growing inside me, hadn’t asked for any of this chaos, and I refused to let it bear the weight of my mistakes. More than that, I’d always yearned for a family of my own. Growing up in foster care, shuffled between homes with no roots, had planted a fierce longing for a caring husband and a house full of children. Lucas had once shared that dream, his passion for a family drawing me to him, and we’d painted such a perfect picture together—until that one slip-up tore it apart.

Hot tears prickled my eyes, but I clenched my fists, willing them back. I’d cried for a week straight, and it hadn’t changed a thing. The tears were pointless now. What I needed was a plan. A way to carve out a safe, comfortable home for my baby. Renting an apartment would be the first step, but my savings were meager, barely enough to cover the basics. Hospital bills loomed large on the horizon, and even if I landed a job tomorrow, the road ahead felt dauntingly long.

Pulling out my phone, I started scrolling through articles about the costs expecting mothers face, my thumb pausing when I stumbled across one about child support. Curiosity got the better of me, and despite my hesitation, I tapped it open. Over the past week, my thoughts had drifted to Damien a few times, though I’d quickly shoved them aside. I’d considered telling him, he deserved to know but the idea withered before it could take root. He clearly hadn’t warmed to me, and I doubted he’d welcome news of a baby with anything but resentment.

Another reason to keep silent was Lucas. I couldn’t bear to hurt him more by revealing that his best friend was the father. It would shatter him, a betrayal he might never recover from. But as I read the article, a question gnawed at me: Why should I suffer alone? It had been a mistake, one none of us had intended. And why should my child miss out on the comfort her biological father could provide? She deserved so much more than the struggle I faced.

Encouraged by this realization, I dove deeper into child support, my resolve strengthening with every paragraph. Later that day, fueled by a mix of determination and nerves, I searched for Damien Montgomery, my fingers trembling slightly as I typed his name, ready to face whatever came next.