Chapter 108

CHAPTER 108

DRUNK OR DRUGGED

ISABELLA

Since I've known Camille, I'm not sure I've heard her fight with her father. So this was a surprise to me.

I led Camille to1 her room with my arm wrapped around her. Her body was still trembling against mine and she didn't speak or look at me. She just walked, her feet dragging behind her, with her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

I closed the door behind us and guided her to the bed. She sat on the edge, her hands clasped in her lap as she fixed her eyes to the floor. The tears didn't seem to have stopped as her face was still wet and her cheeks were still red..

What the hell of going on!?

I sat beside her, watching her patiently under my gaze and giving her enough time to calm down. The silence stretched, complimenting the afternoon light that slanted through the curtains.

"He killed someone," Camille finally said, her voice coming out hollow and knocking something out of my head.

What!??

“My father killed hks best friend. Or at least, he watched him die.”

Oh God… I don't want to be plunged into something that is beyond me.

letting out a soft breath and pushing back my own questions, I reached for her hand and took it in mine.

"He was drunk," she continued. "They were both drunk and he lost control of the car. And instead of calling for help, he just stood there and watched Marcus bleed out on the road."

I didn't know what to say because honestly, a part of me didn't want to believe. The words felt too heavy and too huge. I couldn't imagine Alexander, a man who was breaking under my touch, standing over a dying man and doing nothing.

But I also knew that people weren't just one thing. Especially people of business like Alexander.

"Did you know?" Camille asked, turning to look at me. "Did he tell you?"

Why do you expect him to tell me??

I shook my head. "No. I didn't know."

She laughed bitterly. "Of course he didn't, he doesn't tell anyone anything. He just hides and lies and expects everyone to trust him."

"Camille—"

"He lied to me, Isabella. My whole life he let me believe that Marcus died in a car accident and that there was nothing anyone could have done." Her voice cracked. "But there was. He could have called an ambulance and tried to save him. Instead, he just watched."

I squeezed her hand. "You need to hear his side of the story."

"What side?" She pulled her hand away. "What possible side could there be?"

"I don't know, but you owe it to him to listen. And you owe it to yourself to know the whole truth before you decide how to feel."

She was quiet for a long moment. Then she leaned into me, placing her head on my shoulder.

"I don't know if I can ever look at him the same way," she whispered.

I didn't have an answer for that, so I kept my lips sealed and just held her.

Eventually, her breathing slowed and her body relaxed. She fell asleep against my shoulder, her face tender with streaks of dried reads.

I stayed there for a while, listening to her breathe. Then I gently laid her back against the pillows and pulled the blanket over her.

I slipped out of the room and closed the door quietly behind me.

Élise was leaning against the wall in the hallway, her arms crossed.

"How touching," she said. "The best friend, playing therapist."

I didn't stop to look at her, I just kept walking. Listening to her was bound to get me very angry.

"Camille deserves to know what kind of man her father really is," Élise continued, falling into step beside me. "Don't you think?"

I walked away before I could say something I would regret.

My room was dark when I pushed open the door. The curtains were drawn and the only source of light was from the dim light bulb I had on.

And Julien was sitting on my bed.

"What are you doing here?"

He stood, but it looked like he was holding something behind his back. His face was soft as his eyes screamed apology.

"I wanted to see you," he said. "I wanted to apologize for everything."

He brought his hand around, revealing what it was hiding. A single red rose fit Inbetween his fingers, the petals slightly wilted.

I stared at it, then back to him.

"Julien—"

"Just hear me out." He stepped closer. "I know I've been... difficult I know I hurt you. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Isabella."

He set the rose on my bedside table. There were two glasses there already, and a bottle of open, red wine.

"I just want to have a drink with you," he said. "Talk like we used to."

Studying for a few more seconds, I let out a breath and sat on the edge of the bed.

"One drink," I said.

He smiled. It was the first genuine smile I had seen on his face in weeks. He poured the wine, handed me a glass and sat beside me.

As we drank, we made small talk and I was suddenly beginning to feel tired.

"Julien," I said, setting down my glass. "I think I need to—"

The room tilted and my words slurred. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't hold me.

"Isabella?" Julien's voice sounded far away. "Isabella, what's wrong?"

I looked at him, but his face was blurry and his eyes were widevwith concern.

"I feel—" I couldn't finish my sentence before the darkness hit Mr hard and fast.

I didn't feel myself hit the floor.