Little Helpers

Cammy's eyes widened as she processed Grace's words. Hope flickered, followed by a pang of guilt, a rush of anxiety, and something deeper—something raw. She glanced at Ric, who reached for her hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Greg sat still across the room, but his gaze was dark, his shoulders rigid. He avoided Cammy's eyes.

Grace looked between the three of them. "This might be the only way we can keep Dylan close to you, Cammy. So… think about it. But don't take too long. We need to act fast."

Cammy swallowed hard, her mind spinning. She was about to answer when Greg suddenly stood up.

"I need some air," he muttered, already walking toward the balcony.

The sound of the door clicking behind him echoed like a warning.

Cammy gripped the edge of the table. She could feel her world spinning, everything moving too fast—too much.

Ric leaned toward her, whispering, "Whatever happens, I've got you."