Chapter 2 Bella would take your place.

Camille's POV

Nothing has been the same since that night.

The once unbreakable bond between my father and me now feels like shattered glass-broken beyond repair. Every time I try to explain, to tell him the truth, he shuts me down.

"Father, please, just listen to me," I beg, my voice trembling with desperation.

"I don't want to hear your rubbish," he spits, his tone laced with disgust. His eyes, once filled with warmth and pride, now hold nothing but disappointment. A disappointment that cuts deeper than any wound.

"You are a disgrace to me," he continues, his words slamming into me like daggers. "And I'm sure your mother would be just as disappointed."

A sharp pain rips through my chest. My breath hitches as tears well up in my eyes. The one person who had always stood by me, who had cherished and protected me, no longer believes me.

I feel lost.

Even though Bella and my stepmother never liked me, I had always found solace in my father's love. They made my life difficult, but as long as I had him, I felt strong. Now? I feel like I'm drowning, trapped in a nightmare I can't wake up from.

I wish I had never believed Bella. Never trusted her lies, never fallen for her games.

Maybe-just maybe-things would still be fine between me and my father.

Before, whenever Bella tormented me, I could run to my father. He would shield me, defend me against their cruelty. But now? He acted like I didn't exist. Even when Bella struck me or my stepmother hurled insults, he never looked my way. He never saw me.

That hurt more than anything.

Sitting by my window, I stared outside, longing for a world beyond these suffocating walls. My tired eyes followed a couple stepping out of the house across the street. They were laughing, their hands entwined, their love so obvious even from a distance. A small, wistful smile played on my lips.

"I can't wait to leave this house," I whispered to myself.

It was the only thought keeping me sane-knowing that soon, my husband-to-be would come and take me away from this miserable existence. The mere idea of escape warmed my frozen heart.

But as I stood and glanced at myself in the cracked mirror, reality struck me like a cruel slap.

The girl staring back at me was nothing like the Camille I once knew. Tangled hair. Hollow cheeks. Sunken eyes. My once radiant skin had lost its glow, and my clothes-rags barely clinging to my frail frame-were a reflection of what I had become.

"Will he still want me when he sees me like this?"

My stomach twisted with hunger. I hadn't eaten since morning. My body ached, exhaustion weighing me down like chains. Just as I was about to collapse onto my bed, my stepmother's sharp voice cut through the silence.

"Camille!"

A shiver ran down my spine. Straightening immediately, I rushed out of my room, my feet moving out of fear rather than will.

Meanwhile, across the house, Bella and her mother sat together, their faces twisted in deep thought.

"Are you sure Father will let me take Camille's place?" Bella asked hesitantly, her voice tinged with greed and uncertainty.

A slow, knowing smile spread across her mother's lips.

"Don't worry, my dear. Your father is weak when it comes to me. I've already planted the seed of doubt in his heart. He won't dare let Camille keep what should rightfully be yours."

Bella smirked, satisfaction settling in her chest. If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that her mother always got what she wanted.

And soon, I would lose everything.

That night at dinner, the Thompson family sat around the grand dining table, silverware clinking against fine porcelain, laughter humming in the air. But as always, I sat apart. Cross-legged on the cold tiled floor, I ate in silence, careful not to spill the meal I was grateful to have.

Being treated like an animal no longer surprised me-it was simply the way things were.

After dinner, just as I was about to retreat to my room, my father's deep voice echoed through the hall.

"Camille, come to my office."

My heart leaped. It wasn't often that he summoned me, let alone acknowledged my presence beyond commands and punishments. Was this different? Was this the moment I had been waiting for?

Suppressing the hope that threatened to bloom, I hurried down the dimly lit corridor, my bare feet barely making a sound against the marble floor. Reaching his office, I stepped in hesitantly.

The scent of smoke curled around me. My father stood by the tall window, a cigarette between his fingers, his back turned to me. His posture was both rigid and relaxed-a contradiction I had long come to associate with him.

"Father, you sent for me?" My voice held cautious excitement.

He finally turned, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before settling into his chair. The glow from the desk lamp flickered over his stern face, casting shadows that deepened the creases around his cold, calculating eyes.

"They'll be coming tomorrow," he stated.

My breath hitched. A smile stretched across my lips, radiant, hopeful.

"You mean-are they coming for me?" My voice trembled with excitement. I had dreamed of this moment-of escape, of finally being seen, of my life taking a different turn.

But the look in his eyes made my stomach twist.

"They are not coming for you," he said simply, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray.

The smile vanished from my lips. A cold, sinking feeling spread through my chest.

"What do you mean, Father?" My voice barely rose above a whisper.

He adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable.

"Bella will take your place."

The words hit me like a slap.

Bella.

My sister. The favored one. The perfect one.

My breath quickened, my pulse hammering in my ears. "No," I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. "I-I was supposed to be the one getting married. This was my chance." My voice cracked, and tears blurred my vision.

He showed no sign of regret, only indifference as he inhaled another drag of his cigarette.

"But why?" My voice rose with desperation, my hands clenching at my sides. "Why call me here? Why make me hope?"

His gaze snapped to me-sharp, dangerous.

"Did you just talk back at me?"

Fear surged through me. I knew better than to challenge him. My head lowered immediately.

"I'm sorry, sir," I whispered, my body trembling.

He exhaled slowly. "Good." His tone was dismissive, uninterested. "I want you to behave yourself tomorrow. No outbursts, no foolishness. You should have thought of that before you ruined your own life."

The sting of his words burned deeper than any slap ever could.

"Now leave."

I wanted to scream, to fight, to demand answers-but the steel in his eyes warned me that any resistance would only make things worse.

So I swallowed my pain, bowed, and turned away, dragging my shattered heart with me.

As I stepped into the darkness of my room, I finally let the tears fall, my silent cries filling the hollow space where hope had once lived.