CHAPTER 1: THE MOMENT THE HOUSE BROKE
CHAPTER 1: THE MOMENT THE HOUSE BROKE
The silence after Layla pointed was not ordinary silence.
It was the kind that swallowed breath.
Darian stood at the top of the staircase, one hand still resting on the railing, his face unreadable—but his eyes were not.
They were fixed on Camille.
Not on the guests.
Not on the house.
On her.
“Tell me you didn’t just say that,” he said quietly.
Camille’s lips parted, but nothing came out at first. Her confidence—the same one she wore like perfume in every room—flickered.
“I was just trying to set boundaries,” she finally said. “She can’t keep wandering in when I have people over—”
“She is three,” Darian interrupted.
His voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
Mrs. Okafor appeared from the hallway, frozen halfway between fear and disbelief. She had heard everything. The staff behind her avoided eye contact, as if looking directly at Camille might turn them into witnesses in something irreversible.
Layla, still standing in the middle of the foyer, slowly lowered her finger.
Then she did something worse than crying.
She walked toward her father.
Small steps. Careful. Quiet.
And when she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his leg and buried her face in his trousers.
That was the moment something in Darian’s expression finally cracked.
He bent down and lifted her into his arms.
Camille exhaled sharply, as if relieved.
But she didn’t understand.
May you like
Darian wasn’t calming down.
He was deciding.
