Chapter 2 THE BIRTHDAY BANQUET

CAMILLE

Two days.

Exactly forty-eight hours. That was how long I had to wait for Gavin Easton to decide my fate.

I sat in my bedroom on the morning of my birthday banquet and stared at my phone, willing it to ring, willing a message to appear, willing something to happen that would tell me I hadn't made a fool of myself in his office.

But the screen stayed dark and silent, and with every passing hour, the knot in my stomach tightened until I could barely breathe.

He hasn't called yet. .

He wasn't going to help me.

I had walked into the lion's den and offered everything I had, and he had let me walk out with nothing but a cold smile and a dismissive wave.

I had been foolish to think I could  trust anyone. I had been foolish to think anyone would help me.

The banquet was scheduled for eight o'clock. By seven, the mansion was alive with servants and stylists and the sound of my father's voice barking orders from downstairs.

I could hear the clink of champagne glasses being arranged, the murmur of caterers setting up the buffet, the distant notes of a string quartet tuning their instruments.

My father had spared no expense.

This wasn't just a birthday celebration...it was a performance.

He was going to announce my engagement to Harold Vane in front of the entire Upper East Side, and he was going to make it look like a fairy tale.

He was going to dress me up like a princess and hand me to a monster, and everyone was going to applaud.

I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself. I was wearing a deep emerald gown that hugged my body and trailed behind me like a river of silk.

My hair was swept up, my makeup flawless, my jewelry borrowed from my mother's old collection...the pieces my father hadn't sold. I looked beautiful. I looked like a painting. I looked like a doll waiting to be placed on a shelf.

"I won't do it," I whispered to my reflection. "I won't."

But I didn't know how to stop it. Gavin hadn't called. I had no allies. I had no plan. I had nothing but a burning rage in my chest and a promise I had made to my mother.

A knock on the door. "Ms. Ainsworth. Your father requests your presence downstairs. The guests are arriving."

I took a deep breath. I squared my shoulders. And I walked out of my room like a soldier marching to battle.

***

The ballroom was magnificent.

The guests were the elite of New York society-old money and new money and everyone in between, all of them dressed in their finest, all of them hungry for gossip and spectacle.

I saw faces I recognized, people who had watched me grow up, people who had smiled at me at galas and parties and never once asked if I was okay. They didn't care about me. They only cared about the show.

My father stood near the stage, deep in conversation with Harold Vane.

Harold was wearing a tuxedo that strained across his belly, and his small eyes found me the moment I entered the room.

He smiled, and I felt my skin crawl. Jacob stood beside them, looking smug and satisfied, and when our eyes met, he raised his glass in a mocking toast.

I found Violet in the crowd. She was standing near the bar, a glass of champagne in her hand, her face tight with worry. She had called me three times today, and I hadn't answered.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to tell her that I had tried and failed, that Gavin Easton had rejected me, that I was about to be sold to a monster and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Cam," she said when I reached her, her voice low and urgent. "What's going on? You look-"

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You've been ignoring my calls. What happened?"

"I'll tell you later." I squeezed her hand. "Just stay close to me tonight. Please."

She nodded, her eyes searching my face. "Always."

The string quartet began to play something soft and elegant, and my father stepped onto the stage. He tapped his glass with a fork, and the room fell silent.

He was in his element-the center of attention, the man of the hour-and he smiled at the crowd like a king surveying his subjects.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," he said. "As you know, this is a special occasion. My daughter, Camille, turns twenty-three today. And I am proud to announce that she has accepted a proposal of marriage from my dear friend and business partner, Harold Vane."

The room erupted in polite applause. Harold stepped forward, his hand extended toward me, his wet lips curled into a smile.

My father gestured for me to join them on the stage. Everyone was watching. Everyone was waiting. This was the moment.

This was the performance.

But I  didn't move.

"No," I said.

The word rang out across the ballroom like a gunshot. The applause died. The murmurs began. Harold's hand froze in midair. My father's smile flickered, just for a moment, before he forced it back into place.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"No," I repeated, louder this time. "I said no."

The room was silent. I could feel their eyes on me-hundreds of them, judging, curious, shocked. I saw Violet's mouth fall open. I saw Jacob's smirk fade. I saw my father's face turn red with barely contained fury.

"Camille," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "come here. Now."

I walked to the stage. I didn't hurry. I didn't stumble. I moved like a woman who had nothing left to lose, because that was exactly what I was.

I climbed the steps and stood before my father, Harold, and Jacob, and I smiled...a vicious smile that didn't reach my eyes.

"No," I said one more time. "I reject the offer. I will not marry Harold Vane."

"Camille..."

"I would rather be disowned," I said, and my voice carried across the ballroom, "than be married to a man three times my age. I would rather be a pauper's wife than be sold like cattle to the highest bidder."

The murmurs grew louder. People were leaning forward, hungry for more. This was better than any performance. This was real. This was the daughter of Robert Ainsworth finally fighting back.

"You don't know what you're saying," my father hissed. "You're making a fool of yourself."

"Am I?" I turned to face the crowd. "My father has spent my entire life using me as a chess piece. He has paraded me at galas, used me to charm investors, treated me like a decoration. And now he wants to sell me to a monster. I say no. I say I am done."

I paused, letting the silence stretch. Then I said the words that would change everything.

"I will marry anyone who is willing to take me. Anyone who stands against my father and his corruption. I would rather be a poor man's wife than a rich man's prisoner."

The room erupted. Voices overlapped, speculation and shock and disbelief. I saw people looking at each other, whispering, wondering. I saw my father's face contort with rage. I saw Harold Vane take a step back, his plan crumbling before his eyes.

"Five," I said.

The room went quiet again.

"Four."

People looked at each other. No one moved.

"Three."

Violet was staring at me, her eyes wide, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

"Two."

I saw my father's hand clench into a fist. I saw Jacob take a step forward, ready to intervene.

"One."

And then a voice cut through the silence. "I'll take her."

The crowd parted like the Red Sea. And walking through them, his dark hair slightly messy, his gray eyes fixed on me like I was the only person in the room, was Gavin Easton.

He was wearing a black shirt with no tie, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he moved with the confidence of a man who had never been afraid of anything in his life.

He reached the stage. He climbed the steps. He stopped in front of me, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he took the champagne glass from my hand and set it aside. He cupped my face in his palms, and his touch was warm and firm and unexpected.

"You called," he said. "I listened."

And then he kissed me.

The world disappeared. The crowd disappeared. My father, Harold, Jacob-all of them vanished.

There was only Gavin, his lips on mine, his hands in my hair, his body pressed against me like he was claiming me in front of everyone.

The kiss was deep and demanding and utterly consuming, and I kissed him back with everything I had, because I had almost given up, because I had thought he wasn't coming, because this was the moment I had been waiting for.

When we finally broke apart, the room was chaotic. People were

shouting. Cameras were flashing. And my father was storming toward us, his face purple with rage.

"You," he spat, pointing at Gavin. "You did this. You turned my daughter against me."

"Your daughter turned against you all on her own," Gavin said calmly. "I'm just the lucky man who caught her when she fell."

"Get out," my father snarled. "Get out of my house. You're not welcome here."

"Your house?" Gavin tilted his head. "I think you mean your daughter's house. Or at least, it will be after the wedding."

Jacob stepped forward, his face twisted with anger. "You think you can just walk in here and take what doesn't belong to you? She's an Ainsworth. She belongs to us."

"She belongs to no one," Gavin said, and his voice was cold and sharp as a blade. "She is mine now. And if you ever speak to her like that again, I will destroy you."

Jacob opened his mouth to respond, but my father raised his hand. He looked at me, and there was something in his eyes...something cold and calculating and utterly without love.

"You have chosen your side," he said. "You have betrayed this family. You are no longer my daughter."

"Good," I said. "I never wanted to be."

My father spat on the floor. "The battle line is drawn," he said. "You will regret this."

He turned and walked away, Jacob and Harold following close behind. The crowd watched them go, and then they turned back to us, hungry for more.

Gavin took my hand. His grip was warm and steady. "Ready?"

I looked at him...this man who had walked into a room full of

enemies and claimed me in front of everyone.

The same man who had been my father's greatest rival, was now my greatest ally.

"Yes," I said. "I'm ready."

We walked out of the ballroom together, leaving the shocked whispers behind us.