"Disapproval?" Kate laughs, the sound sharp and without humor. "I'm trying to understand what kind of situation you've gotten yourself into, Tristan. Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you and Julian are being manipulated by a woman with a very specific agenda."
Julian slams his hand on the table, making the crystal glasses jump. "That's enough."
Kate's gaze shifts to him. "Think about it, Julian. She shows up pregnant with another man's child, and somehow both of you are suddenly involved with her. Don't you think that's convenient timing?"
The accusation hangs in the air, vicious and unfair. I watch Camille absorb the hit, see the tiny flinch she can't quite hide. Every protective instinct in me roars to life.
"You don't know what you're talking about," I say, my voice dangerously quiet. "You don't know her, and you've made no effort to."
"I know enough," Kate counters. "I know she's young, pregnant, and has somehow convinced two billionaires to enter into a relationship that makes all of you look ridiculous. If that's not calculated?—"
"Excuse me," Camille interrupts, her voice tight but controlled as she rises from her chair. "I need a moment."
I stand immediately, Julian following suit. "I'll come with you?—"
She stops us with a small shake of her head. "No, I just need a minute." Her eyes meet mine, silently asking for understanding. "Please."
The please nearly breaks me. She shouldn't have to beg for basic dignity, for a moment to compose herself after being attacked. But I respect her enough to nod, to let her retreat without an escort like she's requesting.
We watch her leave the room, her back straight, her steps measured. Only when she's gone does Kate have the decency to look slightly uncomfortable.
"Well," she says, tossing her napkin onto the table and standing up. "I should check on dessert. The kitchen staff may need direction."
"Sure," Julian says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The kitchen staff. Not an excuse to escape the situation you created."
Kate gives him a look that would wither most men, but Julian just stares back, unapologetic. She leaves without another word, the click of her heels against the hardwood echoing like punctuation marks.
Julian waits until she's gone before letting out a long breath. "Well," he says, slouching back into his chair. "This is going well."
I rub a hand across my face, suddenly exhausted. "I should have known better than to bring Camille here. Kate in protective mode is not a pretty sight."
"That wasn't protection," Julian counters, reaching for his wine glass. "That was a character assassination."
"She thinks she's looking out for me."
"By treating Camille like she's a con artist? Christ, Tris." He shakes his head. "I've never seen Kate this way."
I haven't either. Kate has always been tough, blunt, sometimes even harsh—but never cruel. The deliberate way shewent after Camille's vulnerabilities is way beyond what I thought she was capable of.
"She's scared," I realize aloud. "This arrangement with Camille—it threatens everything Kate thinks she knows about me."
Julian considers this, twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. "Maybe. But that doesn't excuse what just happened."
"No," I agree. "It doesn't."
We sit in silence for a moment. I strain to hear any sound from the hallway, wondering if Camille is okay, if she'll even want to return to the table.
"You know what's ironic?" Julian says finally. "Kate's worried about Camille using us, when all either of us has done since meeting her is try to take care of her."
That’s so true. From the moment we learned about her pregnancy, both Julian and I have been driven by a deep-seated need to protect her—from Alex, from gossip, from the challenges of facing motherhood alone. There's been no manipulation, no agenda. Just a growing connection none of us expected.
"Should one of us check on her?" I ask, glancing toward the doorway.
Julian considers this. "Give her another minute. She asked for space."
He's right, of course, but the urge to go to her is almost overwhelming. I take a slow breath, trying to center myself. "When she comes back, we're leaving. I refuse to continue to subject her to this."
"Agreed." Julian's expression hardens.
