Chapter 24

Camille POV

For a moment, I swore the kitchen tilted under me. My hand tightened on the counter edge until my knuckles burned white. Barry’s words sat there between us, jagged and raw, refusing to make sense.

Is George truly the father of the child?

The echo of tires screeching, of Elizabeth’s scream, slammed through me again. My stomach twisted until bile licked at the back of my throat.

“What did you just say?” My voice was too thin, stretched like glass about to shatter.

Barry dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes red-rimmed from a night without real sleep. He looked frantic, not sharp and calculated...