Camilla's POV
My fingernails carved crescents into my palms as I squeezed my hands into tight fists, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks.
She could have said anything else. She could have attacked my character, twisted my past, called me every name in the book. But mentioning my daughter, my sweet Joy, crossed a line that should never be crossed.
I had come here to say goodbye to my baby girl. Instead, I walked straight into an ambush.
And Tom? He was completely blind to it. He missed the venomous smile that played across Delia's lips. All he saw was me, his estranged wife, now a grieving mother, apparently causing chaos at our child's memorial.
"Are you hurt?" Tom asked, his attention focused entirely on Delia, who was now pressed against his side like a wounded dove. I studied her every move, cataloging each calculated gesture. The triumphant smirk she had flashed just seconds earlier vanished the instant Tom's eyes found her face.
