~Lyra~
Camilla’s head snapped up so fast her earrings swung sideways. Her face was blotched with red and black from all the crying.
“Your house?” she repeated, and her voice cracked with disbelief. “Are you f*****g kidding me, Lyra?”
She laughed. It wasn’t real laughter. It was the kind that comes from losing everything in a single sentence and not knowing where to scream first.
“You’re a guest in a house I decorated, in a life I built from the ground up. You’re a stupid girl with a pulse and a heat cycle, and now you think a few orgasms make you the f*****g owner of this home?”
Her voice was shaking. Her fingers were curled into her blouse like she was seconds away from lunging at me. But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move.
“You think this is your house?” she demanded again, louder now
