Chapter 116

What the actual hell? Elise was seething, her fingers twitching with the urge to claw Selene's perfect face right then and there.

That woman was nothing but a mistress's daughter—and now a mistress herself! What gave her the right to act so high and mighty? Miss Lancaster? Please. She was trash wrapped in designer labels.

Camille calmly refilled her glass. "Miss Lancaster?"

Selene was exactly like what Everett's friend Elliot had described—a vapid socialite who somehow had every spoiled heir wrapped around her finger.

Now they all called her "Miss Lancaster" like she was some untouchable goddess.

Elise scoffed. "Fine, let those idiots worship her. But Damien? And Everett?"

She caught herself too late, realizing how insensitive that sounded. "Wait, Cami, I didn’t mean—"

Camille shook her head. "It’s fine."

Since childhood, Malcolm, Rosalie, even her own grandmother Helena had always favored Selene. Then two years ago, Damien fell for her at first sight, and even Chloe started calling her "Mom."

She’d never once confessed how that made her feel. Never shed a single tear over it.

If she’d wanted to break down, any one of those betrayals would’ve been enough to wreck her. But she’d survived.

Compared to that, Everett and his friends meant nothing. Hearing their conversation earlier hadn’t even stung.

Elise hesitated, then pulled her into a tight hug. "Cami..."

Camille smiled. "It’s late. Let’s go home."

"Okay! And about your grandma’s birthday gift—we’ll find something perfect next time. I refuse to believe this city doesn’t have one decent present!"

"Alright."

She squeezed Elise’s hand, and they left together.

As they stepped into the parking lot, they nearly collided with Damien and Selene, who were also heading out.

Damien glanced their way, but Camille pretended not to notice, sliding into the driver’s seat without a word.

Elise shot them a glare before slamming the passenger door shut.

The car peeled away.

Selene turned to Damien.

"Let’s go," he said flatly.

She smiled sweetly. "Of course."

Her gaze flickered toward the retreating taillights, her smile deepening.

After dropping Elise off, Camille was about to leave when Chloe called.

"Mom, when are you coming home?"

She started the engine. "Not tonight. Go to sleep. I’ll visit soon."

"Oh... okay."

Chloe’s tone was unmistakably bored.

Lately, she’d been glued to Selene’s side.

But with Selene and Damien at the auction tonight, she had no one to entertain her. So now, suddenly, she remembered Camille.

"Goodnight," Camille said.

"Mmm, night, Mom."

The next two days were a blur of meetings and deadlines. She’d meant to shop for her grandmother’s gift but never found the time.

On the third afternoon, Gabriel treated the team to lunch as a reward for their hard work.

On her way back from the restroom, Camille froze.

Down the hall, Selene exited a private dining room with seven or eight others, including Malcolm, Rosalie, and a striking older woman—Selene’s mother, Helena Lancaster.

Selene was arm-in-arm with an elegant elderly lady.

Camille looked away. "The Lancasters."

Gabriel hesitated. "That older woman... is she—"

"Helena Lancaster. She’s no one to me now."

He pulled her into a quick hug. "Ready to go back?"

"Yeah."

She’d legally changed her surname years ago. The Lancasters were strangers.

But one thing did bother her.

Rumors had swirled that Selene’s uncle’s family—the Whitakers—were buying property in Lucerne, planning to relocate.

She’d suspected the Lancasters would follow. She just hadn’t cared enough to track their movements.

But seeing them all here confirmed it. They were moving in.

That evening, Camille left work early to meet Elise for shopping. An hour later, they still hadn’t found anything.

While Elise tried on dresses, Camille’s phone rang.

Chloe. "Mom, when are you coming home?"

"What’s wrong?"

"Dad’s away, and I’m bored!"

Normally, Chloe would’ve run to Selene. But with tomorrow being the weekend and Selene undoubtedly busy with Helena’s arrival, the girl had nowhere else to turn.

"Stay put. I’ll be back tomorrow."

"Promise? Morning?"

"Promise."

By nightfall, they still hadn’t found a gift.

Her grandmother’s birthday was days away. She considered settling for something mediocre but couldn’t bring herself to.

The next morning, Camille returned to Damien’s villa.

While Chloe ate breakfast, she remembered something upstairs.

The moment she entered the master bedroom, two ornate velvet boxes sat gleaming on her vanity.