Cameron returned the next afternoon.

He wasn't alone.

Claire came downstairs to find Cassandra Foreman curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a cashmere blanket, looking pale and fragile.

"Claire," Cassandra said, her voice a sweet, innocent whisper. "I hope you don't mind. The doctor said I need someone to look after me, and Cameron insisted I stay here."

Claire knew it was a lie. Cameron would never "insist" on something so troublesome. This was Cassandra's own doing.

"I don't mind," Claire said quietly.

Cameron came down the stairs then, adjusting the blanket around Cassandra' s shoulders with a tenderness that made Claire' s stomach clench.

"Claire," he said, not looking at her. "Cassandra needs to rest. You can take care of her."

It wasn't a request. It was an order.

Cassandra smiled sweetly. "Oh, I couldn't possibly impose. I'm sure Claire is still weak from... everything."

"She's fine," Cameron said, his tone dismissive. "She's got nothing better to do anyway."

The words were a casual gut punch. He saw her as nothing more than a servant, a convenience.

Claire bit her lip, tasting blood. She nodded silently.

"I'm a little hungry," Cassandra said, looking up at Claire with wide, innocent eyes. "Could you make me some porridge? The kind you make for Cameron. He says it's his favorite."

Claire' s hands clenched into fists. She had never cooked for anyone but Jessie and, by extension, Cameron. She was an artist, a painter. She had been coddled and cared for her entire life.

She wanted to say no. She wanted to scream.

But then she felt Cameron's eyes on her, cold and warning.

She unclenched her fists and turned toward the kitchen without a word.

It took her half an hour to make the porridge. When she brought it out, Cameron was gone, having taken a work call in his study.

Cassandra was alone in the living room. The sweet, fragile mask was gone. Her eyes were sharp and mocking.

"You really are a pathetic dog, you know that?" she sneered. "Ten years, and he still treats you like dirt."

Claire set the bowl on the coffee table.

Cassandra wrinkled her nose in disgust. "This is too hot. I can't eat it. Make it again."

Claire hesitated. She took the bowl, intending to go back to the kitchen.

Suddenly, Cassandra grabbed the bowl from her hands and deliberately poured the hot porridge all over her own arm.

She let out a piercing shriek.

"Ahh! It burns!"

Cameron burst out of his study, his face dark with fury. He saw Cassandra clutching her red, scalded arm and Claire standing over her with the empty bowl.

He didn't ask what happened. He lunged forward and grabbed Claire' s wrist, his grip like a vise.

"What the hell did you do?" he roared.

Cassandra was already crying, her voice choked with fake tears. "It's not her fault, Cam! I just said it was a little hot... I didn't mean to make her angry."

"I didn't-" Claire started, but Cameron was already shaking her, his eyes blazing.

"Shut up! I warned you. I warned you not to touch her."

He threw her hand away from him with such force that she stumbled backward, hitting the wall. The impact jarred her teeth.

He carefully lifted Cassandra into his arms, his voice softening. "It's okay. I'll get a doctor."

As he carried her away, Cassandra looked over his shoulder at Claire. Her lips curved into a triumphant, vicious smile.

Claire slid down the wall, her body trembling. The fight drained out of her, leaving only a vast, hollow exhaustion.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, making herself small.

"Jessie," she whispered into the silence. "Please... come and get me."

Claire slept on the floor in the living room.

When she woke up, the house was empty. Cameron and Cassandra were gone. A dull ache had settled deep in her bones.

Today was the anniversary of Jessie's death.

She drove to the cemetery, a small bouquet of white lilies on the passenger seat.

The black marble headstone was cool to the touch. His picture smiled back at her, forever young, forever gentle. She traced the outline of his face, her fingertips trembling.

"Just one more day, my love," she whispered. "This is the last time I'll have to visit you like this. Tomorrow, we'll be together."

She stayed there until the afternoon sun began to dip below the horizon.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Cameron.

Get to the film set. Now.

He didn't even say why. She knew better than to ask.

When she arrived, she understood. Cassandra' s stunt double hadn't shown up. And Cassandra, ever the delicate flower, refused to do her own stunts.

Especially not the one they were filming today.

The scene required her to be submerged in a freezing lake.

"The light is fading!" the director yelled, impatient.

Claire had no choice. She was already weak, her body still recovering. The moment the icy water closed over her, a violent shiver wracked her body.

"Cut!" Cassandra called out from her heated chair on the shore. "That wasn't right. Your expression was off. Let's do it again."

Again and again, she found fault. Again and again, Claire was forced under the frigid water.

Her lips turned blue. Her body shook uncontrollably.

Finally, after the tenth take, Cassandra seemed satisfied.

Two crew members had to pull Claire out of the water. She couldn't feel her legs.

Cassandra walked over to Cameron, linking her arm through his. "Thank you for letting Claire help, Cam. She was wonderful."

Cameron glanced at Claire, who was shivering under a thin towel. His expression was unreadable. "It's what she's supposed to do."

"Oh!" Cassandra chirped, a new idea sparkling in her eyes. "I just remembered! I wanted to go to the temple on the mountain to pray for my health to return. They say to be sincere, you must kowtow with every step up the thousand stairs."

Mark and Leo, who were also on set, exchanged looks of disbelief.

"Cassandra, that's insane," Mark said. "Cam just had a check-up. His doctors said he needs to avoid strenuous activity. His lungs can't take it."

Cassandra's eyes filled with tears. "I... I just wanted to pray for us. I didn't mean to be a burden."

"You're not a burden," Leo snapped. "You're a menace. Ever since you came back, all you've done is cause trouble for him and for Claire."

The tears spilled over. "I'm sorry..."

Cameron wrapped his arm around her, glaring at his friends. "That' s enough. If she wants to pray, I'll take her."

He was resolute. His friends fell silent under his glower.

At the foot of the mountain, Cassandra made a show of getting ready to kneel. "I'll do it myself, Cam. You shouldn't strain yourself."

"No," he said, stopping her. And then he knelt on the cold stone, his expensive suit trousers grinding into the dirt. He bowed his head to the ground.

Claire watched him, a strange mix of emotions swirling inside her. He could be so cruel, yet his devotion to Cassandra was absolute.

He completed the first set of nine steps, his breathing already becoming labored.

Before he could continue, Claire stepped in front of him.

"Stop."

He looked up, his eyes hard. "Get out of my way."

"You can't do this," she said, her voice firm. "Your heart... your lungs. Jessie wouldn't want this."

The mention of his brother's name made him flinch.

Claire turned to Cassandra, her own eyes cold for once. "I'll do it for you."

Under the watchful eyes of Cameron's friends, Cassandra had no choice but to agree.

Claire pulled Cameron to his feet and took his place on the cold stone.

One step. One bow.

Her knees screamed in protest. Her head spun. The world was a blur of stone steps and grey sky.

The entire mountain path fell silent. The only sound was the rustle of her clothes against the stone.

Cameron stood frozen at the bottom, watching her thin, trembling back as she made her slow, arduous journey.

He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his own chest, right where his brother' s lung resided. It was a phantom pain, fierce and suffocating.

He pressed a hand to his heart, trying to breathe.

It' s just a reflex, he told himself. It means nothing.

He could not possibly care about this woman. He couldn't.

When Claire reached the top, her legs gave out. She was so pale she looked translucent.

She pushed herself up, her body trembling violently, and held out a small, embroidered pouch to Cameron. A protective amulet.

"For... you," she rasped, her throat raw. "I need... to go to the back courtyard."

She had to see Jessie' s lamp.

Cameron took the amulet, his fingers brushing against hers. He said nothing, simply nodding.

She limped toward the secluded hall, each step an agony. Cameron' s eyes followed her, the amulet clutched tightly in his hand.

When she entered the small prayer hall, she froze.

Cassandra was there. She was toying with Jessie's ever-burning lamp, a smirk on her face.

"So devoted," Cassandra mocked. "Climbing all those stairs for him. Does he even care?"

Before Claire could react, Cassandra did the unthinkable. She yanked the lamp, sending it toppling over. Then she screamed and threw herself against the wall, hitting her head hard.

"Help! Cameron!"

He burst into the room just in time to see Cassandra sliding down the wall, a trickle of blood on her forehead.

Claire didn't even look at them. She scrambled toward the fallen lamp, her hands shaking. The flame. She had to save the flame.

It was still lit, flickering weakly but alive. A wave of relief washed over her, so powerful it made her dizzy.

A hand clamped around her throat, cutting off her air.

Cameron loomed over her, his face a thunderous mask of rage.

"Did you push her?" he snarled, his grip tightening.

She clawed at his hand, unable to breathe, shaking her head frantically.

"Don't lie to me," he hissed, his eyes burning with a cold fire. "I should have known you were this vile."

He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "You want to hurt her? Fine. I'll show you what real pain is."

He released her suddenly. She collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, her throat burning.

"Take her," Cameron ordered his bodyguards, who had appeared in the doorway. "Throw her on the back mountain. Let her cool off."

As they dragged her out, the sky opened up. Cold rain began to fall.

They dumped her on the muddy ground like a sack of trash and left.

The cold seeped into her bones. Pain was a constant, throbbing companion. Her consciousness began to fade. In the hazy space between worlds, she saw Cameron standing over her, his face contorted with disgust.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" his phantom voice asked.

She woke up in the hospital again.

Cameron was standing by the window, his back to her.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" he asked, his voice low.

Claire laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "Would you have listened?"

He flinched as if she'd slapped him. His throat worked, but no sound came out.

Finally, he spoke, his voice hard again. "Apologize to Cassandra."

"No," she said, turning her head away. "I did nothing wrong."

"I saw what you did!" he exploded, his frustration boiling over. "I trust her!"

Claire closed her eyes. There was no point in arguing.

His anger seemed to deflate, replaced by a weary frustration. "Just... rest," he said. "Tomorrow, you're coming with me to the stables. Cassandra wants to go riding."

He left, slamming the door behind him.

Claire stared at the white ceiling. Her eyes burned, but there were no tears left to cry.