Carlisle stood on the balcony. The cold night wind whipped at his suit jacket. He spoke in a low, tight voice into the phone. The crease between his eyebrows grew deeper by the second.
Finally, he let out a harsh breath.
"I understand, Grandmother. We'll be there."
He hung up the phone. He slid it back into his pocket and walked back into the living room.
His eyes swept over the three women. His gaze finally landed on Billie. His eyes were so dark and threatening that Billie physically shrank back. She pressed herself closer to Diane.
Carlisle walked right up to his sister. His voice was terrifyingly calm.
"Billie, apologize to Camilla."
Billie's eyes bugged out of her head. She looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.
"W-What? Me? Apologize to her? She hit me!"
Diane immediately jumped in, her voice shrill.
"Carlisle, are you out of your mind? Your sister is the one who-"
Carlisle snapped his head toward his mother. His glare was like a physical blade. Diane's mouth snapped shut. The words died in her throat.
Carlisle looked back at Billie. He spoke slowly, emphasizing every single word.
"I said, apologize. Now."
Tears welled up in Billie's eyes. This time, they were real tears of frustration and anger.
"But she-"
Carlisle suddenly leaned forward. He lowered his head right next to Billie's ear. His voice was a low, dangerous hiss, perfectly audible in the dead silence of the room. "Keep this up, Billie, and I will freeze your trust fund and cancel every credit card in your name by tomorrow morning. Think very carefully about your next move." Billie's face drained of all color. Her skin turned chalk white. Her body started to tremble slightly.
She bit her bottom lip hard. She stared at the floor. Her hands gripped the fabric of her expensive dress. Her shoulders hitched as she fought a massive internal battle.
Camilla stood perfectly still. She watched the scene with cold, detached eyes. She was surprised by Carlisle's sudden shift, but her guard remained completely up.
Finally, Billie lifted her head. She shot Camilla a look of pure, toxic hatred. She forced the words through her gritted teeth.
"I... I apologize for... for touching your things."
It was the most fake, forced apology in the world. But Camilla didn't care about the tone. She only cared about the result.
She gave a tiny, stiff nod. Her voice was flat.
"Apology accepted. Now leave."
Diane opened her mouth to argue, but Carlisle shot her one final warning look. Diane grabbed Billie's arm. They practically ran to the door. Diane shot Camilla one last dirty look before slamming the door behind them.
The living room was dead quiet. It was just Camilla and Carlisle. The air felt thick enough to choke on.
Carlisle didn't look at her. He turned and started walking toward the front door.
"Where are you going?" Camilla asked. Her voice was completely empty.
Carlisle stopped walking, but he didn't turn around.
"To see Eleanor," he said. "She wants to see you too. Get your coat."
Camilla's stomach dropped. Eleanor. Carlisle's grandmother. The only person in the Stark family who had ever shown her an ounce of kindness. She knew Eleanor was the reason Carlisle had forced Billie to apologize.
She swallowed the heavy lump in her throat. She didn't say a word. She walked to the closet and pulled out her black wool coat.
They walked out of the apartment and rode the elevator down to the parking garage in total silence. Carlisle didn't even bother to open the car door for her.
The black Maybach sped through the dark streets of New York. The inside of the car was dead silent. The only sound was the soft hum of the heater.
Camilla stared out the window at the blurred streetlights. Her mind raced. What did Eleanor want?
The car pulled through the massive iron gates of the Stark Estate. The giant stone mansion loomed in the dark. Looking at it made Camilla's chest feel tight. This place was supposed to be her family home, but she had always been an outsider.
Martha Finch, the head housekeeper, was waiting by the front doors. When she saw Camilla, a look of deep sympathy crossed her wrinkled face.
"Madam Eleanor is in her study," Martha whispered. "She's been waiting."
Camilla gave her a small, grateful nod. She followed Carlisle down the long, quiet hallway. Every step felt like walking on broken glass.
Carlisle pushed the heavy wooden doors open.
Eleanor Stark sat in a high-backed leather chair by the roaring fireplace. Her silver cane rested against the table. She looked old, but her eyes were sharp and piercing.
When she saw Camilla, a warm, genuine smile spread across her face. She waved her hand.
"Camilla, my dear, come here."
Carlisle stood stiffly by the door. His face was a blank mask. Eleanor acted like he wasn't even there. She turned her head slightly toward him.
"Carlisle, leave us. I need to speak with Camilla alone."
Carlisle frowned. He adjusted his cuffs. "Grandmother, it's late and-"
Eleanor's eyes turned cold. She tapped her silver cane hard against the wooden floor.
"Did you not hear me?"
Carlisle's jaw flexed. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. He turned around and walked out. The heavy doors clicked shut behind him.
Eleanor looked back at Camilla. The warmth in her eyes faded into something heavy and complicated. She let out a long sigh.
"My dear, I heard what happened tonight. Sit down, let's talk."
