Chapter 84 84. Ashford Family
He'd cheated on her from the start. Before the vows. Before the wedding photos. My father had stood beside my mother and promised her forever while another woman carried his children.
My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms until I felt the sharp bite of pain. Unclenched. Clenched again.
Arms wrapped around me then. Warm, solid, smelling faintly of lavender. The silver-haired woman held me against her chest, one hand settling at the back of my head. My breath slipped out in a shaky exhale.
Some of the tightness in my chest eased. She was soft in the same way Mama Cortez was soft. That genuine warmth and real comfort. Her heartbeat was calm beneath my ear, and for a moment I let myself lean into her.
Then it crashed into me.
This was the woman he'd chosen. The woman who'd taken whatever chance my mother had at happiness.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered, thick. "I've waited for this day for years. I'm the one who convinced Silas to find you. You deserve your father, even if it's late."
The tears came before I could fight them, hitting the fabric of her dress. I hated myself for crying. Hated that I needed her comfort. But everything felt too heavy to hold alone.
She eased back, brushed my cheeks with tender hands, then smiled gently. "Come. Everyone's waiting for dinner."
She kept an arm around me as she guided me through the house.
"I'm leaving," an irritated voice called from the stairs. "I came all the way back for some family dinner with a mystery girl, and she's late. I don't wait around for people who can't respect my time."
I turned.
A young man descended the staircase, burgundy suit fitted to his body, black shirt beneath it. Curly brown hair, clean-cut jawline, hands deep in his pockets-like a book character that'd have many girls falling over themselves.
His eyes locked on mine. He stopped mid-step.
Behind him, two girls continued down. The younger one bounced happily, her braids whipping with each step. But the older girl, his mirror image in female form, broke the moment.
"Wow. The kitchen girl is in my house."
She rushed forward and hugged me before I could move. When she stepped back, her smile was bright but did reach her eyes.
"I follow you on social media. Your book posts and Lucien Hayes's thirst traps? Always entertaining!"
"Oh." I forced a polite smile. "Thank you."
She beamed. "Yeah. I'm one of the people who leave the hate comments."
Silence hit so hard even the little one stopped bouncing.
"Natasha," the silver-haired woman snapped. "Enough."
Natasha waved her off. "Relax. It's just fun, you know? No hard feelings for real. Everyone does it."
"Not everyone." The young man pushed past his sister and extended his hand to me. "Damon Ashford. It's good to finally meet you."
His hand was as warm as his mother's. His eyes held mine for a second too long, something in them that made me want to look away. Not uncomfortable, exactly. Just intense. Like he was trying to see through me.
The little girl puffed out her cheeks. "Can we eat now? I'm starving."
"Patience, Iris," the woman said gently. Then to me, "I'm Seraphina. Seraphina Ashford. Sera, if you like. I should have introduced myself properly earlier."
The dining room was as extravagant as the rest of the house. A table that could seat twenty, set for six with china that should have belonged in a museum. Crystal glasses. Silver cutlery. Flowers in the center.
I sat where Seraphina indicated, and surprisingly, I ate. The food was good. Better than good. Roasted chicken with herbs, vegetables and fresh bread.
Seraphina asked gentle questions about my life. Iris talked excitedly about school and her dance recital next week. Damon watched me more than he spoke, but when he did, his words were kind.
For the first time all day, Lucien wasn't on my mind.
'Fuck, I just thought of him.'
I shouldn't be, when I know he'd eventually give up waiting at my door and go home to Jessica tonight. Sleep beside her and wake up next to her tomorrow morning the way he woke up next to me two nights ago.
The chicken suddenly turned sour in my mouth.
"Your hair is so interesting." Natasha's voice cut through my thoughts. "Auburn, right? It's very bold. I could never pull off such an attention-seeking color, but I guess some people need that."
I set my fork down carefully. "It's natural, actually. But thank you for noticing."
"Oh, natural! How lucky." Her smile was sly. "My mom always said natural red hair was a sign of a fiery temper. Is that true?"
"Sometimes." I met her eyes. "Especially when people test it."
Damon coughed into his napkin. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
Natasha's smile didn't waver. "You know, I've been thinking about your mother a lot since we found out about you. Clara, right? From what I've heard, she wasn't exactly the easiest person to live with."
"Natasha," Seraphina warned.
"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking. Dad told us she had problems. Drinking, drugs, all that stuff. It must have been very stressful for him to put up with her for all those years."
"That's enough!" Damon's voice cracked through the room at the same moment I pushed back from the table.
"You want to talk about stress? You want to talk about how hard it was for him?" I looked at each of them. At Seraphina with her perfect hair and perfect life. At Natasha with her cruel smile. At Damon whose eyes had gone dark. "You should all be feeling bad for my mother, not my father."
"Camila-" Seraphina started.
"No." I slammed my hands on the table. The dishes rattled. "My mother was destroyed because your father couldn't keep his dick in his pants. She was destroyed because he married her while he already had you." I pointed at the twins. "While she was trying to build a life with him, he was building a whole other family. And when she finally broke under the weight of it all, when she turned to anything else that would numb the pain of being betrayed, he left her to drown in it."
Tears burned behind my eyes but I refused to let them fall.
"She lived a miserable life because of him. Because of this house. And now you sit here calling her the problem?" I shook my head and backed away. "None of you get to judge her."
I turned and dashed out.
Fuck them. Fuck my father and his so-called help. Fuck this perfect life he'd built while mine fell apart. I didn't need anything else from him. I'd rather rot in prison than owe him anything.
The driveway seemed endless as I ran to the gate. My flats padded against the stone, and suddenly, I kicked on something.
It sent me down, knees first, then my palms. The hot sting was immediate, the burn from the air touching my open flesh.
"Fuck." I clutched at the worst one. Blood was already gathering. My mini dress had ridden up and I could see the full extent of the damage.
"Camila." Footsteps approached. Damon crouched beside me, his burgundy suit jacket gone, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.
"Let me see." He gently reached for my knee.
"I'm fine." I tried to pull away but his hand caught my wrist.
"You're bleeding." His thumb brushed across my palm where I'd scraped it. "Let me take care of it. We have a first aid kit inside."
"I don't want to go back in there."
"Then I'll bring it out here." His eyes searched mine. Dark brown, almost black in the night. His hand was still on my wrist, and his face was closer than I'd realized. He leaned in slightly, his other hand moving to cup my elbow.
"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY GIRL!"