Camilla was the only one in that room who truly understood how I had fallen.
She knew more about what happened to my body than I would ever know. So when I spoke about my death plain, sharp, and without soft edges every word struck her. Her face drained out, her breath catching like she'd been hit.
The Morrigans didn't wait. They rushed her to the car as if she were made of glass.
Of course they did. She was their golden prize now bound to a child, tied to a fortune, claimed as an asset. They guarded her the way a pack guards its chosen treasure.
I stood still, watching her faint silhouette disappear into the waiting car. My palm drifted over my stomach flat, empty. A slow ache tightened inside me.
Joy… if you're out there, watching… your mother will make this right.
Camilla, you took what was mine. Why should you feel the warmth I lost? Why should you get family, comfort, a future?
