Camila's POV
The Vance Mansion loomed before me, every polished surface gleaming under the chandelier lights, the perfect reflection of power, wealth, and everything I had fought for. As I stepped through the grand entrance, heels clicking sharply on the marble floor, I couldn't help but smile inwardly. After finally getting rid of Elara—oh God, she had been such a fool, such a pathetic, idiotic little girl—everything that once belonged to her, every opportunity, every possession, every shred of influence, was now mine. Including Ian.
And with him at my side, I felt untouchable. Untouchable, invincible, and unstoppable. No one dared cross me—not unless I allowed it. My diamond-studded heels thundered across the floor with every step, echoing my growing satisfaction as I moved closer to the staircase. But just before I could ascend, a trembling voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Miss Camilla," Jane said, her tone trembling under her breath.
I turned slowly, my gaze landing on her—stupid apron tied around her waist, smelling faintly of the kitchen and yesterday's fish. The sight made my blood boil.
"Yes, Jane? What is it?" I asked, my smile tight and controlled, though my patience had already worn thin.
"I… I don't think now is a good time to approach Master Ian," she stammered. "He's very drunk… very angry…"
Her words were pathetic, but they had the audacity to reach my ears. I looked her over from head to toe, taking in the weak stance, the trembling hands, and the entire aura of fear she radiated.
"Cut the shit, Jane," I snapped, my tone dripping with disdain. "Do you really think I need your advice? Do I look like a college student in need of a peasant's instruction? Do I?"
"No ma'am," she shook the head as tears welled in her eyes, but I didn't care. This was exactly what I wanted—someone else to feel the weight of my dominance tonight. "You need a bath," I continued, my voice sharp and cold. "A long one. Maybe I can even donate some perfume while I'm at it. I'm good at giving things to charity. But remember—perfume lasts longer on expensive bodies, not cheaper ones."
With that, I ascended the stairs, leaving Jane frozen in place. She had no response, no fight left in her. Perfect.
And then there was the real target—the reason the gala had shattered all of us tonight. Whoever had dared humiliate me, to destroy what I had built, they would pay. I swore it on my father's grave. Even if it was Elara's ghost haunting me, I would dig her grave myself if I had to. I would make her pay with every last ounce of life in me. And maybe this time, I'll get the chance to say real good-bye.
I paused mid-staircase and glanced back. Jane was still standing like a statue. I let a cold smirk curl my lips. "You better know your place in this house before it's too late, or else," I warned softly. "I don't think you want to end up like Karen."
I shushed her with a flick of my hand and disappeared up the stairs like smoke, letting the fear and respect settle behind me.
Entering my bedroom, I froze. Ian was slumped on the floor, surrounded by empty whiskey bottles. Three of them, to be precise, each one a testament to how badly the gala had shaken him—or so I thought.
"Where the hell have you been, Ian?" I called, my voice rising as I approached him. I had called him dozens of times tonight, but he never answered.
He forced himself to stand, but faltered, and I rushed to help him to the bed. He shoved my hand away.
"Don't touch me," he snapped, his voice cold as ice.
Something about his behavior was off. This wasn't just anger from tonight—it was something deeper, darker. But before I could question it further, he rose with all the strength he had left, and I stumbled back instinctively.
"Look! Open your eyes and look carefully," he shouted, thrusting his phone toward me. "The world is talking about this video—about you!"
I pushed the phone away with a dismissive scoff. "Oh, come on, Ian. You can barely stand straight, and here you are, pretending to be humiliated on my behalf. But what did you do? You left me there! People mocking, laughing at me while the world watched!"
He swallowed hard, a lump rising visibly in his throat. I realized, for the first time tonight, that he wasn't just angry—he was consumed.
"Come here, babe," he said suddenly, his voice softer, more insistent, trying to pull me closer. "Let's forget all about tonight. Just like always."
He was only inches away from me, his eyes locking onto mine with a fire that made my body tense. He licked his lips, drawing my attention intentionally. "Your lips…" I whispered.
Before I could finish, his mouth was on mine. The kiss was fierce, burning, and raw—unlike any softness I had expected, yet perfect. My world narrowed to just us, just the heat, the taste, the overwhelming need between us.
He lifted me effortlessly, pressing me against the wall, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, deepening the connection. His lips trailed down the nape of my neck, warm and demanding, sending shivers through my body. All sense of caution and control vanished.
"I love you, babe… don't stop," I murmured, giving into the moment entirely. I tugged at his tie, wanting it off, wanting him closer.
He helped me undo it, lifting his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. My hands explored him—broad shoulders, sculpted abs—while his lips found mine again, insatiable, relentless.
"Are you sure you want this?" he asked between kisses, his voice a growl.
"Yes. Don't stop," I answered, breathless, completely lost in the moment. This was neither our first time nor our second—we both knew exactly what we wanted and needed.
Just as he was about to remove my bra, my phone rang. I hesitated, glancing at the screen. It was Laura.
"I need to take this," I said reluctantly.
"Hello, Ms. Camilla?" she answered.
"Did you find the person?" I asked, curiosity sharpening my tone.
"No… we still can't trace it. The person behind the video knew exactly what they were doing. I'm sorry," Laura replied, her voice hesitant.
I gritted my teeth. "I didn't pay you to give me excuses. I want every single detail. Every single thing you know. Understood?" I snapped and hung up.
Turning back to Ian, I froze in fury. He was fast asleep, murmuring a name I had hoped never to hear again—Elara.
I clenched my fists. "Fuck you," I whispered through gritted teeth, anger boiling hotter than ever.