Chapter Forty Eight - Confronting The Devil

The atmosphere inside Cece's mansion was colder than usual, the opulent decor and sleek, pristine walls doing little to shield Camila from the weight of the moment. The marble floors gleamed under the chandelier's light, reflecting the grandeur that had always surrounded Cece's life—but to Camila, it all looked like a stage set for a tragedy. The house, once a symbol of power and control, now felt like a gilded cage.

Camila stood at the entrance, her heart pounding, unsure of what she was about to say, but knowing it had to happen. She couldn't live this lie anymore.

Cece had summoned her here under the pretence of "catching up," but Camila knew better. She felt it in her gut—the tension, the pressure, the simmering expectation of obedience. As she walked down the grand hallway lined with towering portraits and silence, her heels clicking with hesitation, she steeled herself.

Cece was waiting in the living room, perched like royalty on her velvet armchair, her posture immaculate, her dark suit crisply tailored. The scene was familiar, down to the glass of red wine resting untouched on the side table, but nothing felt familiar in Camila's chest. Her insides were chaos.

Cece looked up as Camila entered, her sharp eyes flicking over her daughter with that usual calculating gaze.

"You're late, Cami." she said curtly, voice devoid of warmth.

"I'm not here for small talk, Mom." Camila's voice trembled, but it held. She took a breath, standing taller than she ever had before. "We need to talk."

Cece arched a brow, then smirked with cool detachment. "Very well, then. Let's hear it."

"I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending everything's fine, that everything you've done is okay. I've spent my life trying to be the perfect daughter, trying to be what you wanted me to be. But I'm done. I can't live like this."

Cece's expression faltered—only for a second—but it was enough. The ice queen cracked, even if just barely.

"You're being weak, Camila." Cece sneered, her voice like steel. "You've let your emotions cloud your judgment, just like your father. This is why you've failed—this is why your children are failures."

Camila's breath caught. Her stomach twisted with a mix of rage and grief.

"My children are falling apart, Mom."

She scoffed, waving her hand as though swatting a fly. "Your children need discipline, not your softness. Harper's a lost cause, and Aura—she's far too delicate. You're coddling them, Camila. You're letting them slip through your fingers."

Camila clenched her fists.

"No. I'm trying to save them—from you."

The words landed like a slap. Cece's eyes narrowed, her mouth tightening.

A heavy silence settled, the kind that made every breath feel like a betrayal. And then, Camila took a step forward. Her voice dropped to something more fragile, more pointed.

"Did you say something to Jackson before he left?"

Cece blinked. That flicker again—brief but telling.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." Camila's voice sharpened. "He disappears but he always tells me. That night he was gone. No note. No explanation. Just gone. Did you say something that scared him off?"

A beat. Two.

Cece lifted her wine glass but didn't drink. Instead, she turned it slowly in her hand, watching the deep red liquid swirl like blood.

"I may have... said something."

Camila's eyes widened. Her chest tightened.

"What did you say to him?"

Cece finally looked at her. "I reminded him of what this family expects. Of what it means to carry our name. I told him that if he couldn't live up to that, perhaps he wasn't cut out to be part of it. Said if he couldn't shape up then I'll send him somewhere where they deal with kids like that."

Camila took a shaky breath, disbelief and fury rising inside her like a wave.

"He's just a boy, Mom. Barely sixteen. And you told him he wasn't good enough?"

Cece shrugged. "I told him the truth. He was always soft. Always drifting. He needed direction, and I offered it. If he ran from that... well, that's on him."

"No. That's on you!" Camila snapped. Her voice cracked under the weight of heartbreak. "He didn't just run away from me, he ran away from you. From all of this. And I don't blame him."

Cece's jaw tightened, but she remained composed.

"You want to talk about blame, Camila? Let's talk about what happens when you betray your own blood." Her voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "You think you can walk away from this family and live happily ever after? You think you can turn your back on everything I've built for you, everything I've given you, and not suffer the consequences?"

"I'm not turning my back on my family." Camila said, trembling. "I'm doing what's best for my children. For all of us. I can't live this lie anymore. It's exhausting."

Cece slowly stood, straightening her blazer, her expression a mask of disdain.

"And what about the life I gave you? The house? The wealth? The privilege you've enjoyed all these years?"

Camila's breath caught. She knew where this was headed.

"You want to walk away from all of it? Fine. But know this—" Cece stepped closer now, her voice dropping to a vicious hiss. "You defy me, and you'll be cut off. You and your children. No fortune. No handouts. No connections. No legacy. You'll be nothing."

Camila's resolve wavered for the briefest of moments, but something deep in her flared—a steel she didn't know she had.

"I don't want your money, Mom." she said quietly. "I don't want your legacy. I want my children to be free. I want them to live without fear of you, without your control and cruelty. I want them to be happy."

Cece scoffed. "Happiness?! You think you can give them happiness by taking away everything they've known? You're not protecting them, Camila. You're abandoning them."

"I'm not trying to protect them from the world." Camila said, stepping forward, her voice unwavering now.

"I'm trying to protect them from you."

The silence was thunderous.

Cece's face darkened, her mouth twitching with barely concealed rage.

"You're making a terrible mistake. You've always been weak, Camila. But I never thought you'd be so foolish as to throw away everything that makes you who you are."

"No. You made me weak. But not anymore."

For a long moment, Cece just stared at her, eyes burning with cold fury. Then she spoke one last time, her voice as bitter as poison.

"You will regret this, Camila. And when that happens—when you've lost everything—you'd better not come crawling back."

And with that, Cece turned on her heel and walked away. Her heels echoed across the marble, clicking with a finality that left Camila standing alone in the grand, empty room.

As the door closed behind her mother, Camila let out a long, shuddering breath. Her chest rose and fell, heavy with the weight of what she had done.

Camila didn't look back as she left the mansion. Her heels clicked across the marble floor with rushed finality, but the sound felt distant, drowned out by the roar in her ears. She barely registered the gilded front doors as she pushed through them and stepped into the night.

The cold air hit her face like a slap, shocking her breathless for a moment. The sharpness of it made her eyes sting, though whether it was the wind or the pressure behind her eyes, she couldn't tell anymore.

She got into her car and sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel, breath shaking. The house loomed behind her like a mausoleum—silent, cold, and full of ghosts.

She blinked hard, trying to focus, to stay upright in the wave of emotion rolling through her. There was only one thought on her mind now.

Jackson.

She fumbled for her phone, pulling up his contact. His name on the screen made her chest ache. The last time she saw him, he had hugged her too tightly. He had been quieter than usual. He had asked if she still loved him, even when he messed up. And then he was gone.

She hit the call button and brought the phone to her ear. It rang. Once. Twice. A third time.

Voicemail.

The beep echoed louder than it should have. Camila hesitated, but then the words came pouring out like water from a cracked dam.

"Jackson... it's me. It's Mom."

She paused, her voice trembling. Her throat felt thick.

"I... I just left Grandma's. And I know. I know she said something to you. Something that hurt you, scared you." Her voice broke, just a little. "I should've been there. I should've protected you from her. I didn't know... I didn't know what she said until today."

She closed her eyes. Her hand was shaking.

"You're not in trouble. I'm not angry. I don't care what she said, or what you think you did. Just—please, Jackson. Just tell me where you are. Please. You don't even have to come home right now. Just call me. Text me. Let me know you're safe."

A sob escaped her throat before she could stop it.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry. I let her get in between us. I let her poison everything, and now you're gone. But I'm here now. I'm trying, Jackson. I'm trying to fix it. Just... come back. Or tell me where you are and I'll come to you. I don't care where. I'll drive across the whole damn country if I have to. Just say something. Just let me know you're okay."

She couldn't stop the tears now. Her chest was heaving, her voice crumbling under the weight of it all.

"You're not alone. You're never alone. I love you. I love you so much, and I need you to hear that. Not Grandma's voice. Mine. I love you exactly the way you are. Not who she wants you to be. Please call me, Jackson. Please."

She ended the call, the silence in the car swallowing her whole.

Camila dropped the phone into her lap and buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly in the dark.

For the first time since Jackson disappeared, she didn't feel like she was waiting.

Now, she was searching.

And she wasn't going to stop until she found him.