Divorced the Cheat Married the Fleet (Camilla and Lance) novel Chapter 130

“You’ll still be my wife, and Jasper will still be the Carter family’s eldest grandson. Only the two of us will ever know the truth. So, what do you say?”

Barnard made it sound like a conversation, but really, he left Camilla with no choice at all.

Jasper was so little. No matter who his real father was, or if his birth was all part of someone’s plan, he was still Camilla’s son, the baby she grew inside her for ten months. There was no way she could turn her back on him. She could throw away her reputation, even her pride, but she couldn’t let Jasper become the target of ugly rumors. The weight of all that—no child should have to bear it.

“Camilla, are you really going to take forever to decide?” Barnard pressed, impatience creeping into his voice.

She let out a dry little laugh. “Mrs. Carter? For how long? How long before you cook up your next scheme and bring Davina home as your perfect wife?”

His expression darkened, his gaze like ice pinning her to the spot. In that silent moment, it was like he accused her for seeing straight through him, making it impossible for him to keep up this charade.

Camilla knew he’d never give her the answer. “Fine, I’ll keep being Mrs. Carter. But keep that woman of yours far away from me. If you don't, I’ll show you what regret really means.”

Barnard’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance when she called Davina “that woman,” but he held his tongue.

“Camilla,” he said, “I heard there’s a new medical team at the hospital today. I don’t care who you brought or who’s helping you, tell them to leave. The truth is already clear. Whatever your mother heard doesn’t matter, and I won’t do anything else to her. She’ll wake up soon, trust me, but I don’t want anyone else around you. Got it?”

A cold smile curved Camilla’s lips. “How cautious you are, Barnard. You love having the upper hand. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare go against you like this.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something nice, maybe even comfort her, but the words never made it out. Camilla picked up a vase and brought it down on his head, hard.

The crash echoed through the room. Barnard staggered, blood welling up and sliding down the side of his face. He stared at her, stunned and furious.

Camilla grabbed some tissues and calmly wiped her hands clean. “Davina pushed my mother. This is just me returning the favor. Now we’re even.”

Blood slid down his forehead, stinging his eyes—and through the messy red, he saw a half-crazy grin lift her mouth. She was ghost-pale, almost swaying where she stood, but she still found strength to fight back.

That stubbornness, the wild anger flashing in her eyes, somehow made her even more beautiful. She was like a bright red poppy, poisonous and dangerous and impossible to look away from.

Barnard suddenly said, “Camilla, you know, if you were just a little softer with me, maybe I’d actually keep you as Mrs. Carter forever.”

Five years of love—if you could call it that—had turned into one long knife, cutting into her, over and over.

The sound of water roared in her ears, but even that couldn’t drown out Barnard’s voice. It echoed inside her skull, rough and low, the kind of voice that made you think of monsters in the dark.

“Camilla! Camilla! Can you hear me? Don’t do this, talk to me, please!”

Ada’s voice suddenly snapped her back. She was pounding on the bathroom door, her knock fast and frantic.

All around the room, broken glass glittered in puddles of blood, and papers covered the floor like silent witnesses to what just happened.

Barnard had been gone for almost two hours. Camilla hadn’t left the bathroom since. Of course Ada was worried.

Ada knocked again, sounding more urgent. “Camilla, if you don’t say something, I’m getting someone to break down the door.”