Chapter 8 8

Camden's Headquarters

Camden swiped his keycard, and the door to his office hissed open. His father, Silas Benjamin, was standing by the window, his back to the door. Silas was the patriarch, a man who had built an empire and sacrificed his own family on its altar.

"A fiancée," Silas said without turning around. "Announced at the Met Gala. A very public, very loud move, Camden. Not your style."

"It was necessary," Camden replied, walking to his desk. He didn't sit. He remained standing, a subtle act of defiance.

"To get rid of the Owens girl?" Silas finally turned. His eyes were the same stormy gray as his son's, but colder, harder. "Or to unlock your trust?"

Camden's jaw tightened. The terms of his grandmother's will were explicit: he gained full control of his multi-billion-dollar trust fund only upon a suitable marriage.

"Her name is Edlyn Harding," Camden said. "The family is old money, even if their recent fortunes have declined. She is presentable."

"She is broken," Silas countered, his voice sharp. "I had my people run a background check. The scandal with Julian Thorne. The selective mutism after her parents' accident. The girl is damaged goods, Camden. A liability."

"Her past makes her manageable," Camden said, his voice dropping. "She has no one. She is dependent on me. She will not cause problems."

Silas smiled, a chilling, predatory expression. "Just like your mother, then? Manageable? We both know how that ended."

A muscle jumped in Camden's cheek. The memory of his mother, vibrant and full of life, before she was sent to the 'facility upstate,' was a wound that had never healed.

"This is different," Camden said.

"Is it? You've chosen a pawn for a queen's role. Be careful she doesn't get taken off the board. Or worse, decides to play her own game." Silas walked toward the door. "Bring her to the estate for dinner on Sunday. The family will want to inspect your new acquisition."

The door closed, leaving Camden alone in the silence. He looked out at the city, but he didn't see it. He saw his mother's face, and for a fleeting moment, it was overlaid with Edlyn's.

Sienna's Apartment

Edlyn stared at herself in the mirror.

She was wearing a white suit. Sharp. Tailored. It looked like armor.

"You look like you're going to court," Sienna said.

"I am," Edlyn replied. "Julian has called a press conference. He's going to announce his side of the story."

"You can't go," Sienna pleaded. "It's a trap."

"Camden's orders," Edlyn said, clipping a tiny, almost invisible earpiece into her ear. "He said to go. To face him. He said Julian's predictability is his greatest weakness."

"And what are you supposed to do? Just stand there while he slanders you?"

"I'm supposed to listen," Edlyn said. Through the earpiece, she could hear the faint, calm voice of Bradford Weaver. "Weaver will be listening too. Julian thinks he's setting a trap for me. He doesn't realize he's walking into one himself."