Chapter 107
Henry glanced at her, his expression softening at the question. “Ah,” he said after a pause, his gaze drifting back toward the lake. “Dan p>
Rachel waited quietly, sensing that whatever he was about to say wasn’t something he shared often.
“He was my younger brother,” Henry began softly, his voice low, touched with something like memory and regret. “Brilliant, reckless… always had a spark I admired, and envied, if I’m honest.” A small, wistful smile tugged at his mouth. “We built Camden Atelier together. Two boys with borrowed money and bigger dreams than sense p>
Rachel’s brows lifted slightly. So that was how he’d started the fashion house Chloe used to work with.
“We were nobodies then,” Henry continued. “Just two dreamers stitching ambition into fabric. And for a while, it worked. We caught people’s attention. Our designs had soul.” He paused, eyes shadowed. “Until Dan decided that what we were doing wasn’t enough p>
He fell quiet for a moment, the sound of the water filling the pause. “He started taking shortcuts,” Henry said finally. “Sketches that weren’t ours. Designs lifted from smaller houses that couldn’t fight back. He said everyone did it. That it was just the way to survive in a cutthroat industry p>
Rachel’s stomach tightened. “And you didn’t agree p>
“No,” Henry said quietly. “We argued. I told him it was wrong. That no success was worth losing our integrity. He said I was too proud to see that the world didn’t care about principles p>
A muscle in his jaw worked. “When the lawsuits came, it destroyed everything. The Atelier, our reputation all gone. Investors fled, contracts crumbled. And Dan He exhaled slowly. “He still didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. He said he’d only done what he had to p>
Rachel’s throat tightened at the quiet ache in his tone. Just by hearing him speak, she didn’t need anyone to tell her he was still living in the pain. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn.net
“I tried to reason with him, but all we did was fight,” Henry said with a sad sigh. “We said things that can’t be unsaid. I told him I never wanted to see him again. And… I didn’t p>
Rachel’s throat tightened. “Mr. Camden p>
Henry exhaled shakily, his gaze unfocused on the still water. “He died two weeks later in a car crash. I never got the chance to forgive him. Or tell him that no matter what he’d done, he was still my brother p>
Silence settled between them; heavy, fragile, and filled with unspoken words.
Rachel blinked rapidly, trying to steady her voice. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” she managed to say.
He nodded slightly. “I suppose I deserved the ruin that came after. The company never recovered. Investors pulled out, our name lost its worth. When I was diagnosed, selling what was left to the Stones seemed the only sensible thing to do especially since Sandra didn’t want to be party to Atelier. It was time to let go p>
His eyes softened, tired but clear. “I thought that would bring peace. It didn’t. It never does p>
Rachel stared at him, her heart aching with a tenderness she hadn’t expected. “Maybe it’s not too late to forgive him,” she said softly. “You can still do that even now p>
Henry’s gaze lingered on the water, his voice low and rough. “You make it sound easier than it is, Rachel p>
She smiled faintly, eyes still on the lake. “Not easier,” she said softly. “Just possible. You really can learn to let go of the guilt. I’m sure he’d long forgiven you and he could’ve apologized if he were still here p>
That made him pause. Something in her quiet, sure, unwavering tone slipped past the wall he’d built around himself.
The wall of guilt that he could’ve done better. That he could’ve handled things better like the elder brother he was. But instead, he’d let Dan down.
He turned to look at her, studying the way the sunlight touched her hair, how calm she looked sitting there, shoes off, her toes brushing the grass as if she belonged to every simple thing in the world.
For a moment, he envied her. That ease, that warmth. Then he realized maybe it wasn’t ease at all, but courage disguised as gentleness.
He drew a slow breath and gave a small, tired smile. “Let’s not talk about sad things anymore,” he murmured. “Not today. I’d rather enjoy this view while I still can p>
Rachel glanced at him, her smile widening just a little. “If that’s what you want p>
Silence settled between them again, but this time it was comfortable. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled.
Henry leaned back, the weight in his chest a little lighter, the ache a little duller. For years, guilt had been his only companion, but sitting there beside Rachel and hearing her quiet laugh, seeing that gentle spark in her eyes made something in him shift.
He couldn’t name it neither did he try to. All he knew was that the lake didn’t feel so lonely anymore.
And for the first time in a long while, neither did he feel lonely p>
After a while, the sunlight began to dip lower, scattering gold across the rippling water. Rachel rose first, brushing the grass from her skirt. “We should head back before Mrs. Nair sends a search party,” she said with a small laugh.
Henry chuckled softly, reaching for his cane. “God forbid the house runs out of her tea p>
She offered him her hand which seemed steady, and patient. He hesitated only for a moment before taking it. Her fingers were warm against his, small yet firm, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.
The walk back to the car was slow, the kind of slow that invited reflection. Every few steps, she’d glance at him, making sure he was fine. Every time she did, he’d pretend not to notice, though he did and it stirred something wordless in him.
When they reached the car, she opened the passenger door for him, but he gestured for her to go first. “You drive next time,” he said lightly, though his voice was softer now, even almost tender.
Rachel smiled. “I see there’s a next time. You might regret saying that p>
“Perhaps,” he murmured, lowering himself carefully into the driver seat and before he could start the engine, he spoke again.
“Rachel p>
She glanced up, turning to him. “Yes p>
He met her gaze and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. His eyes were steady, but there was a glimmer of something behind them: gratitude, ache, and the quiet surprise of having been seen.
“Thank you,” he said at last, his voice roughened with sincerity. “For… today. For reminding me what peace feels like p>
Her throat tightened. She tried to smile, but it wavered. “You don’t have to thank me p>
“Oh, I do,” he said gently. “Because I’d forgotten what it was to breathe and not feel sick for a moment. And somehow, you made me remember p>
Rachel looked down at her hands gripping the wheel, blinking hard before meeting his gaze again. “Then I’m glad,” she whispered. “Because you deserve that, Mr. Camden. You really do p>
He smiled faintly, that soft, faraway kind of smile that carried both gratitude and fear. Gratitude for the moment, and fear of how much it meant.
The drive back was quiet. Rachel leaned against the window, her eyes half-closed, a faint trace of satisfaction evident in her face. She’d made him thick two today. Four more to go.
When they pulled into the driveway, the afternoon sun was slanting through the trees. Henry parked carefully while Rachel hurried out to help him, looping her arm around his as they approached the door.
But the moment she opened it, the calm she’d been carrying shattered.
Sandra stood in the middle of the foyer, her arms crossed, her expression sharp enough to cut glass.
“Well,” she said coolly, her gaze sweeping over them. “Out for a morning drive, were we p>
Rachel blinked in surprise, tightening her grip on Henry’s arm. “Miss Sandra p>
“Save it,” Sandra snapped. “You were supposed to be taking care of my grandfather, not dragging him around the countryside like a child p>
Henry’s brow furrowed. “Sandra, that’s enough p>
“No, it’s not enough, Grandfather.” She turned to him, her voice rising, laced with outrage and something that sounded like humiliation. “You’ve been out there with her while you’re supposed to be resting? What if something had happened? You could’ve collapsed on the road! And to think she made you drive p>
“Nothing happened,” Henry said tiredly, his tone edged with quiet authority. “I’m fine, Sandra. In fact, I felt better out there than I have in months p>
Sandra’s jaw clenched. “Oh, really? And what if that little ’outing’ had gone wrong? Who would you blame then? Her p>
Rachel swallowed hard, the sting of the words sharp in her chest. “Miss Sandra, please p>
Sandra’s eyes snapped to her. “Don’t speak to me. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but it ends today. You’re fired p>
Rachel froze, her heart skipping several beats. “What?” There was no way she was leaving this house.
“I said you’re fired.” Her voice was cold, cutting. “I’ve tolerated your presence because Grandfather insisted, but clearly, you’ve overstepped your place p>
“Sandra—” Henry’s tone sharpened, his breath shortening.
But she just ignored him. “You were hired to help, not to drag him around town, driving like he was some driver. But since you seem to think you know what’s best for him, why don’t you pack your things and p>
“That’s enough p>
The command cracked through the air like thunder; low but powerful.
Sandra flinched, startled by the sudden force in Henry’s voice.
He took a step forward, his chest rising unevenly. “You will not speak to her that way,” he said, each word clipped and shaking with effort. “Rachel has done more for me in these few weeks than you have in years. And if you think you can before he could finish, he felt a piercing pain in his head and before any of them could know what was happening, Henry had already collapsed, again.