Chapter 34

Camille stepped out of the kitchen, her hands still damp from washing vegetables. Damien sprawled across the living room couch, his tailored suit jacket discarded over the armrest as he flipped through financial reports. His gaze flickered toward her for half a second before returning to the papers.

She halted mid-step. Before everything changed, she would've curled up beside him with a book, content to share the silence. Now the space between them crackled with unspoken accusations.

Turning abruptly, she headed upstairs. Not once did Damien call her back. The absence of confrontation unsettled her. After what happened with Selene at the gala, she'd expected fireworks. Instead, she got this... glacial indifference.

Chloe's bedroom door creaked open as Camille reached the landing. "Mom?" Her daughter's voice sounded thin. "I'm starving. Is the soup ready?"

"Almost, sweetheart." Camille pressed her palm against Chloe's forehead. "How's your fever?"

"Gone!" Chloe beamed, though dark circles still shadowed her eyes.

Relief loosened the knot between Camille's shoulders. Back in the kitchen, she hummed as she stirred the simmering pot. "Chloe! Chicken noodle soup's served!"

She was ladling the golden broth into a bowl when Damien appeared in the doorway. Chloe tugged his sleeve. "Dad's eating with us, Mom. Shouldn't you make more?"

Marianne materialized with an extra bowl before Camille could respond. "Plenty to go around," the housekeeper winked.

Camille hadn't planned to eat, but the pot held enough for three. She served Damien first, noting how his long fingers cradled the spoon with aristocratic precision. Chloe inhaled her first bite. "This tastes like heaven! Why don't you cook this anymore?"

"You can have it every week if you want," Marianne chuckled.

"Promise?" Chloe's eyes sparkled.

Camille kept her gaze fixed on her untouched bowl. Across the table, Damien's silence felt heavier than the antique silverware.

"Mom?" Chloe's voice turned syrupy sweet. "Will you sleep in my room tonight? Please?"

The refusal died on Camille's lips when she noticed her daughter's pallor. "Of course." Neither Damien nor Chloe finished their portions. The leftover soup congealed in the pot as they left the dining room.

Post-fever Chloe still insisted on showering. Camille hovered outside the steamy bathroom, arms crossed. "Don't catch a chill again."

After toweling off her daughter, Camille hesitated outside the master suite. The empty room surprised her. She'd expected Damien to purge every trace of her existence. Yet her perfume bottles still lined the vanity, her silk robe hung exactly where she'd left it. Even the novel on her nightstand remained dog-eared to the same page.

The walk-in closet revealed rows of untouched designer dresses. Of course he wouldn't remove them, she realized bitterly. Not while their divorce remained pending. Grabbing pajamas, she hurried to Chloe's room.

Chloe was already in bed, scrolling through her tablet. She frowned at the clothes in Camille's arms. "You're showering here?"

"Thought I'd keep you company." Camille ducked into the en-suite just as the bedroom door opened again. Damien's deep murmur filtered through the running water. Her fingers tightened around the faucet handle.

The game of pretend continued. But for how much longer?