Chapter Thirty-One

Zeke’s POV

As I held Kamille in my arms, her tears soaking my shirt, a wave of anguish washed over me. The sight of her, broken and vulnerable, tore at my heart. I felt utterly helpless, knowing I couldn't alleviate her pain or mend her broken heart.

I had watched her rush from the restaurant, tears streaming down her face. Seeing her distress stirred a torrent of emotions within me.

Arriving at her home, I helped her from the car, my heart aching at the sight of her tear-stained face and trembling hands. I had remained calm when I saw Royer’s bloodied face—I’ve seen men covered in blood, but nothing was as gruesome or painful as seeing a little boy in his own blood. Kamille’s little boy.

"I'm such a bad mother!" she cried. "If only I hadn't left my kids for dinner, Royer wouldn't be so badly injured. How could I have messed this up again?!" Her words pierced me like daggers. But even as she berated herself, I refused to let her succumb to the despair threatening to consume her.

"Listen to me," I said, meeting her tear-filled gaze with unwavering compassion. "You're not alone. Accidents happen, but they don't define your worth as a mother. What matters now is how you respond, how you support Royer."

Her voice, choked with tears and guilt, echoed through the room like a mournful lament. "I'm such a failure, Zeke," she whispered, the words heavy with self-recrimination. "If only I hadn't left them alone…"

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "How could I have messed this up?" she cried, her voice trembling. "I should have known better, been more careful. How could I have been so careless?"

Gently, I placed my hands on her shoulders, forcing her to meet my gaze. "Hey," I said softly, my voice laced with warmth and reassurance. "I don't want to hear you say that. You are an amazing mother, Kamille. There's no parenting manual, but you've done an incredible job. Despite everything, you've raised four remarkable children. That's something to be proud of. You are a young, strong, and beautiful woman."

I paused, watching her reaction. Her tears continued, but a glimmer of hope flickered in her eyes. "I don't want to ever hear you say demeaning things to yourself again. Do you hear me?" I asked, looking directly into her blue eyes.

She nodded. I pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away her tears. She dabbed at her eyes. I stared at her, heartbroken by her pain. Her eyes still glistened, but held a depth of emotion that took my breath away. Her eyes were puffy from crying. Then she lifted her gaze to meet mine. Even in her vulnerable state, she was still beautiful.

Without hesitation, I pulled her into my embrace.

Breaking away, I noticed worry spreading across her face. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"I need to speak with Reon, Tyris, and Torin. They must be frightened and confused. But I don't have my phone," she replied, hands gesturing.

"Here, use mine," I offered quietly, extending my phone.

She took it with a grateful nod, her fingers trembling as she dialed her home number. "Hello, Donna, it's me, Kamille," she said, her voice tight with worry.

I listened intently as she spoke. "How are the kids? How are Reon, Torin, and Tyris?" she asked, her voice breaking.

Nanny Donna's response was immediate, a torrent of worry and relief. "Oh, Ms. Kamille, thank goodness you're okay. They've been asking for you. They're scared and crying. They want to see their brother. How is Royer?"

My heart ached for her distressed children. "Royer is fine. Please bring the kids to me," Kamille pleaded, trying to reassure herself and the nanny.

Before she could say more, I interjected. "Don't worry," I reassured her firmly. "I'll send my men to pick up the kids and bring them here."

"Oh, Zeke, thank you, but you don't have to," Kamille replied politely.

"Kamille, it's no trouble. I want to help. Please don't deny me this, at least for the kids' sake," I pleaded.

Relief flooded Kamille's features. "Thank you, Zeke," she whispered.

"Thank you, too," I replied.

She returned to the call. "Please dress them warmly and get ready to escort Zeke's security…"

"No need," I interrupted. "The kids are safe with my men."

I wondered what she was thinking.

She nodded silently. "Stay home then, Donna. Thank you. I don't blame you. I know it wasn't your fault, and I know how much you love the kids."

"Okay, Ms. Kamille. Thank you so much," her nanny responded.

As Kamille ended the call and handed back my phone, her gaze lingered a moment too long.