Chapter Six: A Heated Argument

Camille watched Dominic with the same expression she had worn ten years ago—the one that hid her heartbreak behind a wall of stubborn defiance.

But Dominic wasn't the same man he had been back then.

He wouldn't run this time.

"You had no right," he said, his voice dangerously low.

Camille exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "I had every right."

"To keep my son from me?" He took a step closer, but she didn't back down. "You decided that for me?"

"I did what was best for him."

"Best for him?" His voice rose before he could stop it.

Several heads turned from the café tables, customers watching with open curiosity.

Camille's eyes flickered around the room. "Not here," she bit out, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward the storage room at the back.

She pushed open the door, shoved him inside, and closed it behind her with a firm click.

The moment they were alone, Dominic let out a sharp breath.

"I should have known you'd turn this on me," she said bitterly, crossing her arms. "You left, Dominic. You made it clear you weren't coming back."

"I didn't know you were pregnant, Camille!" He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small room. "Do you really think I would have walked away if I had known?"

She flinched but quickly masked it. "You walked away anyway."

His jaw clenched. "Because your father told me to."

Camille stilled. "What?"

"He told me to leave you alone." Dominic's chest heaved. "He made it clear I wasn't good enough for you. That you deserved better."

Camille's lips parted, and for the first time since he had arrived, doubt flickered in her eyes.

"My father…" She trailed off, then shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts.

Dominic stepped closer, his voice gentler now. "Did you ever ask yourself why I never came back? Why I never called?"

Camille swallowed hard, looking away.

"I didn't leave because I wanted to," he continued. "I left because I was told you had moved on. That I was a mistake you didn't want to relive."

Her breath hitched.

She hadn't known.

He could see it in her face.

But she quickly recovered, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter now."

"The hell it doesn't." He exhaled sharply. "I lost ten years, Camille. Ten years of my son's life."

Her arms tightened around herself. "And what? You expect me to just let you walk back in?"

"I expect you to let me know him."

Her eyes flashed. "Liam doesn't need you."

Dominic's jaw tightened. "You don't get to decide that."

She let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You think it's that simple? You think you can just show up, claim him, and be his father?"

"I am his father."

"You're a stranger to him."

Her words hit harder than he expected.

Camille sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, I'm not doing this to punish you. I'm doing this to protect him."

Dominic exhaled. "From me?"

"From getting hurt."

Silence stretched.

Camille turned away, gripping the edge of the storage shelf. "Liam has never had a father," she said quietly. "And he's fine. He's happy. The last thing I want is for you to walk into his life, make promises, and then leave when things get complicated."

Dominic's stomach twisted.

He understood her fear.

He had seen it in her eyes when she had first looked at him outside the café—a fear of history repeating itself.

But he wasn't leaving.

Not now. Not ever.

"I'm not going anywhere, Camille." His voice was firm. "I don't care how long it takes—I'm going to be in his life."

She turned back to him, her face unreadable.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Camille sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I don't trust you, Dominic."

His chest ached at the quiet honesty in her words.

"I know," he admitted. "But I'll prove myself to you. And to him."

Camille studied him, as if searching for any sign of weakness.

Finally, she nodded—just once. "Then prove it."

And with that, she walked away, leaving Dominic alone in the storage room, his heart pounding with a mix of determination and regret.