Chapter 6
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Third Person’s POV
Meanwhile, Brent and Shalane took the kids to the hospital. The doctor checked Galvin’s wound, disinfected it, and applied some ointment–it was just a minor injury.
Afterward, they took the kids out for steak and fried chicken before returning to Shalane’s villa.
Galvin clung to Brent, refusing to let go. “Daddy, sleep with me tonight.”
But as Brent tucked him in, Camryn’s expression from earlier flashed through his mind.
So calm. Too calm.
Prying his son’s fingers off him, he grabbed his car keys and hurried home.
Seeing his twin injured today, Devin had cried uncontrollably. In Brent’s anger, he hadn’t even stopped to listen to his wife’s explanation.
The moment he pushed open the front door, his heart pounded against his ribs.
“Camryn?” he called.
But the only answer was his own echo bouncing off the walls.
He bolted upstairs, yanking open the closet doors–empty. The hangers swayed slightly.
His eyes darted around–no wedding photo.
Heart pounding, he ran to the bathroom.
No toothbrush. No towel. No makeup.
For the first time, real fear set in. His hands shook as he dialed her number.
But a cold, mechanical voice responded.
“Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable. “An hour later, he sat slumped
on the couch, staring at his phone.
The security footage played back on the screen.
The divorce papers sat beside him–just a few simple lines.
Camryn left, and she didn’t want anything.
For the first time in his life, Brent felt true, gut–wrenching panic.
He curled into himself, hugging his arms tightly.
The last time he felt this helpless, this terrified–it was 20 years ago.
When debt collectors pounded on the door, screaming for money.
When they threatened to take everything in the villa.
When his father was rotting in jail.
When he woke up every morning to find debt collectors sleeping in the company.
When rotten vegetables and eggs littered their doorstep.
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He sat on the couch, head down, body trembling. Alone and terrified.
Back then, Camryn had burst into the room, throwing her arms around him, trying to stop his shaking. Then she stepped in front of him, shielding him as she negotiated with the furious debt collectors.
In the end, she actually signed a promissory note, promising to pay them back in installments.
The sudden ringing of his phone yanked Brent out of his thoughts.
He stared at the familiar number and swiped left to decline.
But the caller was relentless. The ringtone kept blaring.
His Telegram was flooded with messages.
[Daddy, my hand hurts so bad. Come quick!]
[Brent, Galvin is making such a fuss. I can’t calm him down, you need to come back.]
“Cameyn is mad, and I understand why. Tomorrow, I’ll go apologize in person–let her hit me, yell at me, whatever she wants. Galvin is just a kid. We should be patient with him.”
Brent listened to Shalane’s fake, sweet tone and, for the first time, saw the darkness in her.
He had been blind.
She had played him like a fool–crying about her sick mother, saying she wanted a child, calling herself useless and unfilial because she didn’t even have a boyfriend. She reminded him how they had been best friends in college, and somehow, in his moment of weakness, he agreed.
All he wanted was a child of his own blood, someone to carry his name, without it affecting his life. Shalane had sworn, over and over, that she’d raise the child alone, that it
wouldn’t interfere with his marriage.
But things had spiraled.
Galvin got sick and was hospitalized.
Galvin and Devin had birthdays.
And time and time again, Brent found himself showing up, unable to stay away.
He sat up straight, his mind suddenly clear.
He had been impulsive. He had let his anger cloud his judgment.
He would apologize. He would beg for Camryn’s forgiveness.
He would send Galvin and Devin back to London. Aside from basic living expenses, he would cut them off completely.
Without wasting another second, he called his lawyer to start transferring stock ownership back. The villa he had given Shalane? Repossessed. The car? Sold off.
He needed to handle everything now while his wife was still furious.
That way, when she came back, she wouldn’t have a reason to stay angry.
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12:18 Sun, 23 Mar
Maybe, just maybe, they could go back to how things used to be.
When Shalane showed up at his place with the kids, Brent was hanging up a wedding photo.
Her face twisted in annoyance.
“Brent, every couple fights. How could she use divorce to threaten you like this?”
Brent glanced at her, his expression unreadable.
“You think she was threatening me?”
Shalane studied his face, and when she saw that he was seriously asking, she brightened.
“Of course! What else would you call it? Divorce papers, destroying wedding photos, running off to hide–typical dramatic tantrum from a spoiled woman.”
She scoffed.
“Brent, you’re too soft–hearted. If you ask me, don’t give her the satisfaction. Let her struggle out there for a bit–she’ll come crawling back.
“She’s nothing without you. What is she, really? Just some outsider. A barren hen who should be grateful for the scraps she gets, and she actually thinks she can compete with Galvin?”
Before she could say another word, the wedding photo crashed down, slamming into her
head.
Brent’s lips trembled. He couldn’t speak.
‘So this… this is what she thinks of my wife. No–this is what everyone thinks of her.’ ‘My parents included.‘
‘An outsider.‘
‘A barren hen.‘
All these years, behind his back, how much gossip had Camryn endured? How many cruel glances had she suffered?
Stepping away from the company had already lowered her status, but being a wife who couldn’t have children?
To the Ceppetellis, that made her nothing more than a useless burden!
