Page 12 of Dr. Billionaire's Fake Marriage

I lock eyes with Emile, and when I see Camile, I notice that she has been watching me.

"Hi, everyone," Emile giggles as she sits near me. She smiles at Mother next, thanking her for inviting her to dinner.

She rubs her hands on my palm and blurts out, "Hi, Troy."

“Emile.” I fake a smile as I offer, “It’s been ages. How have you been?”

Emile starts to speak about her recent trip to Paris, but I am thankful to Henry for telling her he’d love to hear everything after dinner. Mother clears her throat to get our attention.

She looks up at me before she announces that Emilie is my arranged partner. I am livid to hear it at a family dinner in my employee's presence.

I hold myself from speaking my mind in the middle of the meal. I eat after grace is said.

My mind roams at the heavy responsibility I have to bear. But when I look at Camile's calm face, I feel some solace.

Why does Camile Howard look like the peace within the storm of this room?

Chapter four

The Rooftop

Camile

I am glad that I finally returned home after the weird dinner with Troy's family. Having Amelia there with me made me feel more comfortable…but the tension between Troy and Mrs. Robinson was a tough one.

I could see that Troy didn't know I would be at his house last night. I could also see the surprise in his eyes when that tall, attractive, blond lady walked into the dining room.

Troy looked like he didn't want to see her, and he was shocked at his mother's announcement: Emilie is Troy's arranged partner.

Amelia told me that Emilie's parents and the Robinson family go way back.

They have the same influence in the country, and both own renowned hospitals in Richmond.

I understand why Mrs. Robinson thinks matchmaking Troy with Emilie would strengthen the families' bond.

Amelia thinks Troy doesn't fancy Emilie because he thinks she is curt.

Last night, I felt like the odd one among the rich and influential people in the city.

I only ate my food and looked up whenever someone mentioned my name in a conversation. Now that I am home, I can finally breathe in freely.

Today is my day off. I am supposed to look forward to it, but it only means that I am spending more time with Mother.

She spends most days reminding me that I must work hard for the family's future.

A knock is heart on the door; Mother comes in before I can tell her. I look at her face; she has been crying for so long.

I stand up from my bed. "Are you okay, Mommy?" I ask her, holding her hands, but she only smiles at me.

"I am fine," she lies. "Today is supposed to be your father's birthday," she says, sniffing hard.

I struggle since I don't know how to react whenever she tells me about my father.

This is a man I never knew, a man whose memory is only from pictures. I once thought Father was dead until I dared to ask Mother. She told me he had walked out on us when I was little.

"Good luck to him wherever he is," I say. I am mad at my father for walking out on us when we needed him the most.

I am even madder that I don't have any concrete memory of him in my head.

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