Camilla moved toward Lincoln with small, careful steps, each one trembling like a confession. "Lincoln, I—" she began, voice low. "I'm grateful for everything you've done. If not for you, I don't know where my baby and I would be."
Lincoln turned to her slowly. "Our unborn child," he interrupted, then fixed her with a steady, confused look. "I don't know why you're thanking me. For all I know, you and my child aren't going anywhere."
Camilla's casual expression vanished; uncertainty replaced it. "What do you mean?" she asked.
He leaned forward as if forcing the truth through his teeth. "Camilla, I love you. I don't want to leave you. I'm... attracted to you and to Alex. You two are family to me. So why do you want to leave?"
Those words melted something inside her and she shied away from answering. Anger flared instead — hot, reckless. She struck back with the sharpest weapon she had: words. She accused him, ran through accusations of betrayal and careless indulgence, dragging his past lovers and his arrogance into the room like knives.
Lincoln's face contorted. Her words landed like icicles. The man she knew — or the monster she feared — surged up inside him. In a single, furious motion he shoved the office table to the floor. The crash silenced the air; his eyes shut for a beat as if he were fighting to hold himself together.
Camilla stared, startled, then something in her hardened. Fear gave way to a brave, cruel calm. She met him eye for eye and spoke slowly, with authority. "Now listen, Lincoln. I will leave you — with or without your consent. Whether you like it or not."
She slammed the door behind her and fled down the hall with heavy, determined steps. Lincoln's voice followed, raw and desperate. "Camilla, you listen — I won't let you leave this house. Not with my baby."
She halted in the guest room and turned the lock. From the other side of the door, her voice was small but defiant. "You mean the one you raped me?"
Silence dropped like a stone. On the other side of the thick wood Lincoln's breathing changed; whatever words he'd been about to throw were swallowed by the room.
[Alex POV]
[The following day]
Last night had been ferocious, a storm of emotions I wanted no part of. I locked myself in my room, resisting the urge to meddle in matters that weren't mine. After freshening up, I decided to take one last quiet stroll through the house, a final attempt at peace.
What I didn't expect was Lincoln. He was slumped behind the guest room door, his face carved with sorrow as he fiddled distractedly with his Randy. His whole frame sagged under invisible weight, as though he had lost something he could never reclaim.
I froze, watching him with a mixture of distress and reluctant sympathy. A strange thought crossed my mind—I would have liked Lincoln as a brother-in-law. But that possibility was poisoned, crushed under the reality that he had violated my sister, leaving scars no one could erase.
And yet, even in that truth, I couldn't shake the gnawing certainty: Lincoln was not just entangled with her—he was obsessed.