Tristan’s POV
The boardroom at Crane Industries was too damn quiet. The floor-to-ceiling glass made everything look pristine and curated, but beneath the surface of that cold transparency, a storm was brewing. The weather was all gray...a storm that was indeed approaching.
My attorney, Rowan Patel, was seated across from me, his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his spectacles were halfway down his nose as he flipped through a set of documents I had already read a dozen times. His voice was calm, but his words landed like anvils.
“She amended the Will,” he said, finally looking up. “Estelle signed the updated version about fourteen months before her passing. That’s the date stamp on the scanned document that you’ve received from Alex Mendez.”
I leaned back in the chair, my jaw was tense. “But you told me when Estelle passed away that the Will had already been finalized.” I just didn’t understand this.
“It had.” Rowan nodded. “The original version. This amended one? I never received it until now. Which is… convenient.” He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need to speak to Mendez. Something’s off. He was Estelle’s private legal counsel for years before you got married...before you both hired me. If he withheld this, it could complicate everything.”
“So what does this mean?” I asked, my voice was low and restrained. “Is it valid?”
“It might be. Depends on whether the amended version was witnessed properly, notarized...which clearly is, and if no one can prove coercion. But until I confirm the chain of custody, Camille stays where she is.”
“You’re saying she’s staying with me,” I muttered, biting the inside of my cheek.
Rowan hesitated. “Temporarily.”
“She’s not a houseplant, Rowan,” I snapped. “She’s manipulative. And she’s not grieving Estelle...she’s using her memory to cling to whatever leverage she can find.”
“I don’t disagree,” he said calmly. “But legally? I can’t remove her unless you want to make a media scene. And with the Grace case…” He trailed off.
I sighed. “What about the Grace case?” I asked.
Rowan leaned forward, lacing his fingers. “This one’s not going to be pretty. Grace is pushing for a harassment claim. She is claiming you intimidated her at her place of work. And...” He paused. “Someone snapped a photo.”
“I know that part,” I muttered.
“The media’s not on it yet, but the courts are. What you need to understand, Tristan, is that because you confronted her in public, Crane Industries will be dragged into this. They will investigate you and they will be investigating Stern Academy. I understand that you may be doing business with Mark Stern, but he won’t like that his school is being dragged...especially the Stern name, and I cannot fight Mark Stern on anything because he is brilliant and so is his attorney. I will try my best with the Grace case. I can’t guarantee anything with that.”
“I confronted her because she pushed a pregnant girl and caused her to miscarry. My baby.” I hissed, “I don’t even know what to think of you as my attorney in the Grace case anymore, because I get the feeling that you don’t want to take on that case, and we could lose the case.” I said calmer this time, but yet very disappointed in Rowan.
“I know,” he said gently. “But it won’t stop them from poking into Stern Academy, these things happened on Stern Academy's watch, you accompanied them to camp, and you had already slept with a student in their school. If they find something, which they will, it will go public due to the Stern name, which is globally recognized and so is VFS. Not to mention your connection to Mark Stern...”
“I don’t want his name dragged,” I cut in. “He doesn’t deserve that. We’ve got a business deal scheduled, and if this blows up before then…”
Rowan gave me a long look. “You will lose it.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to. I already felt the ice forming under my boots. My heart was constricting, as if it was squeezing the life out of me.
He gathered the documents together, “I will look further into the Camille thing, but she will be staying with you for now,” he said as he stood up. I just nodded in thought and disappointment.
***
I stepped into the elevator, descending from the executive level with a tension headache that wrapped around my skull like a vice. I took out my phone from my pocket and texted Elona that I would be taking her to dinner this evening.
My phone buzzed as the city skyline faded from view. It was Cris. I furrowed my brows at the sudden call from her after we left things between us.
“Hey,” I answered.
“Dad, can we meet up tomorrow?” she asked, her voice was a little breathless. “I… found something in Mom’s old files. I think it’s part of what she was investigating before she died. It might be big.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “Of course. I’d love that.”
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You sound tired.”
I closed my eyes briefly. “Just taking care of a few things. Tomorrow is better. Afternoon?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said, her voice softer. “I’ll text you the time. Love you.”
“Love you too.” The line went dead, and I slipped the phone into my pocket as the elevator doors opened. Somehow, I was happy to hear her voice, it gave me a little hope. I decided to go home because I needed to prepare myself mentally for a meeting with the board at Crane Industries.
***
I ran a hand down my jaw and glanced at the clock. She will be home soon. It will only be dinner. I was trying to treat this like any normal evening, but I could already feel the pressure of tomorrow’s board meeting breathing down my neck. It loomed at the back of my mind like a storm cloud, layered with legacy decisions, and the ever-growing whisper of scandal. But I just wanted to take Elona out tonight with no distractions, no damage control and no past clawing its way back into the present. I pulled my black coat tighter on me as the cold air was seeping into me before I shoved my hands into my coat pockets.
The headlights of a cab spilled across the driveway. I exhaled. She was finally home. The front door opened and closed quietly behind her. She was soaked in the smell of rain and city air, her hair was slightly damp around the edges, her hoodie clinging to her arms. She set her gym bag down near the door and looked at me, her eyes searching.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, as she stepped closer. “You look like you have been fighting demons in your head all afternoon.”
I offered a tight smile, leaning in to press a light kiss to her temple. “I’ve been trying to shut them up long enough to take my girl to dinner.”
She studied me for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Let me shower. I’ll be quick.”
“Take your time.”
As she disappeared down the hallway, I paced the lounge, and then I stood against the wall between the hallway and kitchen. When she came down twenty minutes later, I swear the air in the room changed. She wore a black mini-dress that hugged her like second skin, the hem was barely grazing mid-thigh. Over it, she had thrown on a black fitted formal coat that cut off just at the same point as the dress, teasing the illusion of modesty. Her long legs were exposed, and she wore black ankle boots that made her look tall, fierce, and dangerously beautiful.
“Shit, Elona,” I breathed, standing up straighter, stepping away from the wall. “You’re trying to kill me before we even get to dinner?”
She tilted her head, a sly smile playing on her lips. “I’m only making sure you remember who you’re going out with tonight.”
“Oh, I’ll remember,” I said, reaching for her hand. “If anyone looks at you the wrong way tonight, I swear-”
“I’ll handle it,” she said, bumping her shoulder into mine.
I chuckled. “Ready?” she nodded.
We had just reached the front door, my hand on the knob, when I heard the shuffle of heels on the steps outside and a woman’s voice. “Tristan! Oh, thank goodness.”
I froze. My stomach tightened as I slowly opened the door wider. Camille stood there, hair sleek despite the rain, her coat open over a crisp white blouse and jeans, and two large designer suitcases flanking her sides with more suitcases in my driveway.
“What... the hell are you doing here now?” I asked, tension snapping into my voice instantly. I wasn’t ready for her to be here this evening.
She looked exhausted but still too well put together. Her perfectly lined lips curled into a sigh of relief. “I thought you would be home. I’m sorry I didn’t call first. My attorney informed me that I could move in.”
“You were supposed to let me know before coming,” I said, barely keeping my voice even. “I told you...I’m not ready for you to move in yet.”
“I know,” she said, brushing the rain off her suitcase. “I couldn’t stay at the hotel anymore. You said the house has space. I won’t get in your way.”
Before I could stop her, she breezed past me and Elona, wheeling her bags in like she belonged. Elona stepped back, clearly surprised yet amused, but she said nothing. Her hand stayed in mine, though. That meant everything.
“Camille,” I said sharply. “Use the guest bedrooms upstairs, but don’t touch mine and Estelle’s old bedroom. That space is off limits.”
She paused mid-stride and turned back with a frown. “Tristan, seriously? It’s been years-”
“I said what I said,” I snapped. My tone left no room for debate.
Camille rolled her eyes but kept walking. Elona turned toward me, her voice soft. “She will be okay. I don’t mind her being here.”
I looked at her, my jaw still tight. “Maybe you don’t. But I do.”
“Let’s just go. We will have a nice dinner,” she added, squeezing my hand, and that’s exactly what we needed.
Even as I opened the car door for her and watched her slip into the passenger seat, the pit in my stomach remained. Camille’s arrival wasn’t random, her attorney informed her to move in. She never did anything without reason, and I was too damn tired to play detective with her.
Elona glanced at me across the console as I started the engine. “You sure you’re okay?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’m better with you next to me.”
She smiled, and for a moment, I believed that might just be enough to get me through the night.