Chapter 6 THE FUN HAS ONLY JUST BEGUN

The knock came at dawn.

Camille had barely slept-not after Pierce's hands had nearly crushed her lungs, and his threats still rang in her head. "Welcome to hell!"

Camille would have been more afraid than she already was if she wasn't already in hell before the playboy's threat.

Her father was dead, she was facing a murder charge, and now carried an unplanned baby in her stomach just so she could survive. If that wasn't hell, then what else could she call it?

"The General requests your presence in his study," the guard announced, and without a second wasted, he turned and left.

Camille's fingers twitched against her stomach. She pondered what reason the General could have for wanting to see her so early in the morning.

He hadn't invited her to breakfast, as he had done the day before, and the day before that. This time, it was to his study.

Camille wasn't stupid. Talks held in the study were meant to be serious. So whatever the General had to say to her, she knew it wouldn't be a trifling matter.

She dressed carefully, choosing a high-necked gown to hide the fingerprints still branding her skin.

Once dressed, she stood before the full-length mirror. "I can do this. I have come this far, and nothing can stop me." She exhaled, then inhaled.

Once she was sure of herself, she left her room, heading for the General's study.

The General's study was as imposing as it had been the very first time she was in there. Never once had she thought she would return to the study so soon.

Her insides churned; her fingers clutched the sides of her gown. The General sat in his ever-imposing chair, carved from pure wood. She didn't thinkhe could look more intimidating-until this very moment.

His stare made her gut tighten with the secret she buried deep inside. "You... you called for me, sir," she said, swallowing, her eyes refusing to meet his.

"Sit," he commanded.

Camille obeyed, back straight, eyes fixed on the floor.

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then-

"How?"

Camille blinked, confused. She shifted in her chair, wondering what he meant. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand what you mean by 'how'," she muttered as politely as she could.

"How did you get pregnant by my son?"

She shifted again. The question the General had asked wasn't something she expected. Pierce Landon was a playboy who slept with virtually every girl who walked past him. It shouldn't have been shocking to the General that she slept with him.

"Forgive my bluntness, General, but your son is a male prostitute."

The General smiled, nodding slowly. "That I am aware of. And while I admire your ability to keep quiet," he leaned back in his chair, "I must warn you, this is not the place for dishonesty."

Camille's fingers trembled now, and to hide how shaken she was, she clasped her hands on her thighs, keeping her expression free of fear.

"I don't know-"

"Camille, I checked your records the moment you were mentioned to me. Before you even stepped into my estate." He rose from his chair, walked to a shelf, and pulled out a file, then threw it onto the table. Camille gulped. "You were arrested the very day you returned to Ventria. And unless my son somehow travelled out of Ventria without my knowledge, or had sex with you in prison..." He trailed off, staring at her intently.

Camille exhaled, then crossed her legs. So what if she had gotten pregnant the wrong way? The General still needed an heir-and she had that in her stomach.

Camille's lips stretched into a smile. She had the upper hand. "I didn't want to be executed. So I had your son's sperm smuggled into my cell. I inseminated it in myself."

A beat. Then-

The General laughed. His laughter resounded through the study, bouncing off the walls in great waves.

When his laughter died down, he sat. His eyes, once filled with intimidation, now held admiration. "You are a doctor, after all. It would have been a shame if you didn't make use of such a loophole."

Camille wasn't sure whether to smile at the compliment or remain neutral. Being a doctor was never her plan, but her father wanted it. That way, she could take his place when he died. He had mapped everything out- she would start as a resident, then climb the ladder of hospital politics.

"The baby alone can't save you," the General said, snapping her out of her thoughts. His amusement faded. "You're still a convicted murderer."

Camille folded her arms. "I'm guessing you have a way out for me. A bargain?"

"You are the first woman to get my son so... riled up."

"Well, I'm carrying a child he doesn't want," she shrugged.

"It's more than that."

"You think your son is attracted to me?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I very much think so."

Camille uncrossed her legs. "I'm sorry, General, but you're wrong about that. Your son loathes me. He wants to kill me."

"That is indeed true. But beneath that hate, I believe there is raw attraction. And I want you, Camille, to use it."

Camille leaned in, maintaining eye contact. "You want me to seduce your son?"

The General clasped his hands. "I want you to make him fall for you. I want my son madly in love with you."

Camille's mind raced. "I don't think that's even possible. But if I do succeed, what do I get in return?"

"Your death sentence will be waived. And I'll personally ensure your father's true killer is found."

A lifeline. A chance.

Not only would she avoid being a fugitive for the rest of her life, but with the General's resources, she could find out who murdered her father.

This was bigger than she expected, and she'd be a fool not to accept.

Camille nodded. "Deal."

"Once I see signs of my boy falling for you, I'll uphold my end of the bargain."

"Of course, sir," Camille said.

"That will be all. You may leave."

She stood, but as she turned to go, she remembered something important.

"Sir?" she called, turning back.

The General looked up. "Yes?"

"I need to go home," she said softly. It wasn't a plea-it was a demand.

The General arched a brow. "Why?"

"I just need to let my family know I'm still alive. I'm sure they're worried sick about me." She flashed a fake smile.

The General studied her, then waved a hand. "An escort will be arranged for you."

⸻

THE OWENS ESTATE

Camille stared at the mansion with steely resolve. Not even its haunting façade looming over her could make her cower. Not today.

Today, she was here to deliver a message-loud and clear. War.

The butler wasn't at the door to greet her, so she let herself in. Her stepmother, Gemma, descended the staircase, right on time-she was dressed in black.

It had been nearly half a year, and yet she was still putting on the show of mourning her husband. Camille snorted.

Gemma's eyes rested on Camille, and her face twisted in horror as she stared at her intently. Her hands shook as she grabbed the stair railing. Her face went pale, her mouth opening and closing as if she was seeing a ghost. "How... how are you here? You're dead."

Camille smiled sweetly. "Aww, Mother, how I've missed you!"

Gemma staggered back, her fingers trembling as she pointed at Camille in fear. "No, this isn't possible. You're dead. YOU'RE DEAD!" she shrieked.

At Gemma's scream, Betty came running, and she froze the moment she saw Camille. "How...? You're alive... but-"

"But I died? I was executed? Is that it?" Camille cut in, clapping her hands as she laughed maniacally.

"You see her too?" Gemma asked her daughter, her face dripping with sweat.

Betty nodded, too afraid to speak.

"You both thought you had succeeded right? But it would take a lot more efforts to kill me."

"We aren't to blame for your arrest, Camille," Gemma said firmly.

Camille scoffed. "Did you really think I'd believe you didn't set me up for my father's murder? After you killed him!"

Gemma met her gaze. "I didn't."

"Yeah, right. Well, keep up the act. Because if you suddenly develop a conscience, it'll be less enjoyable to bring you to your knees."

Gemma spread her arms wide, grinning. "I've no guilt to feel. Because I did nothing wrong." Her grin widened. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Camille."

Camille stepped closer, stopping inches from her. "I will make you pay for murdering my father. And I will take back everything that's mine. You'll die, and your daughter will be homeless."

She turned to leave, but paused at the door. Without looking back, she said, "Just sit tight, Stepmother. The fun has only just begun."