CHAPTER FOUR

CAMILLA 

The rest of the evening is spent fake smiling at guests and each other. Outside, in front of our guests, we barely acknowledge one another, projecting an image of a happy couple, definitely not in love, but at least content.

After greeting the guests, it was time for the couple's dance. Mr. Hamilton and I give the eager, watchful audience a good show. It was a never-ending charade, and my patience was wearing thin. I yearned for an escape, even if only for a moment.

Despite my best efforts to maintain my composure, I can't help but steal occasional glances in Mr. Hamilton's direction. He remained an enigma to me, an infuriating one at that. The memory of our confrontation outside lingers, a constant reminder of our tumultuous first encounter. That was definitely not a meet cute.

The evening eventually reached its climax as the formalities drew to a close. My father, the ever-dutiful host, stands at the center of the room, raising a glass for a toast. The clinking of crystal echoes through the room as guests raise their glasses to celebrate the impending union.

"To Camilla and Trevor, may their love be as enduring as the bonds of business!" My father declares a forced cheerfulness in his tone.

The guests cheer their voices a cacophony of well-wishes and empty platitudes. I raise my glass as well, but my gaze remains fixed on Mr. Hamilton, who stands beside me. Only then do I realize that not a single soul from his family is in attendance.

The night eventually winds down, and the guests begin to depart, leaving behind the remnants of a lavish celebration. My father and Mr. Hamilton exchange pleasantries with the departing guests, and I seize the opportunity to slip away, eager to escape the stifling atmosphere.

I retreat to my room, where the solitude provides a brief respite from the chaos of the night. I can finally shed the façade of the perfect daughter and future wife. Stripping off the suffocating expectations and etiquette, I allow myself to reflect on the surreal events of the night.

As I sit in solitude, I can't help but wonder why his family wasn't in attendance. Jerk is probably too ashamed to be getting married to a middle-class businessman's daughter instead of those snobbish "my dad just got me a pink Ferrari" girls. It makes me wonder why he agreed to the marriage in the first instance.

A reminder of the decisions that had been made for me, the thought of the upcoming marriage still hung over me like an ominous cloud. I yearned for independence and a life of my own choosing, but I was unable to escape the fact that my situation was unavoidably what it was.

Just as I'm about to turn in for the night, the door to my room flies open, and in walks my dad.

My heart skips a beat as my father storms into the room, his face contorted with anger.

"Camilla Tate, what in the world were you thinking?" he bellows, his voice echoing off the walls of my room.

Having no idea what I did wrong, I ask, "What happened?"

"What is this news I heard about your incident with Mr. Luca? How dare you insult my partner? Do you know how much this would cost me?" That is all this man ever cares about. His business... "I was defending myself, Father. He said despicable things to me," I reply, my voice unwavering.

His eyes narrow as he takes a menacing step toward me. "You embarrassed Mr. Luca. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I won't apologize for defending myself, Father," I state firmly, refusing to back down.

His face reddens with rage, and he clenches his fists at his sides. "Camilla, you will go to Mr. Luca's home and apologize to him immediately."

I can't believe what he just said. Apologize to that vile man who had insulted and threatened me? It was inconceivable. "Absolutely not, Father. I won't apologize to him. I won't subject myself to his harassment."

My father's eyes bear into mine, and his voice grows cold and menacing. "I know I believe I failed as a father, seeing as you don't have any manners. But I am going to teach you a few starting tonight. Or…"

"Or what, Dad? Why should I do as you tell me when you have no rule over me anymore? I am now a Hamilton, a soon-to-be-married woman, no longer your yes-man. And the only person I am obliged to obey is my husband," I say, staring at him defiantly.

My words hang in the air like a heavy cloud.

"Very well, Camilla, since you are no longer obliged to obey me, then I am no longer obliged to put up with you in this house. You will leave my house tonight. Get your things ready; Noah will drive you to your new home."

He can't be serious.

"You can't be serious, Dad," I tell him, my confidence wavering.

"Oh, but I am, Camilla." With that, he leaves me utterly broken in my room.

With a sense of finality, I begin packing my belongings. I could go tell him I am willing to apologize to Mr. Luca, but I am determined to uphold my principles and preserve my self-respect. It's not like I could keep staying in a place where my voice is continually silenced and my integrity compromised.

I know my interactions with Mr. Hamilton have been far from pleasant, but I also know that I will never have a place in his home. A fact that I am okay with. Because it is far better than thinking you have a place somewhere you don't.

I despise this act of pretending to be the perfect daughter, because in all honesty, I'm far from it.

I've never truly been allowed to be myself.

"No, Camilla, you can't attend that ball."

"No, Camilla, you can't have that friend."

"No, Camilla, you can't go on that date."

It's always been about the family, and honestly, it feels like it always will be.