Chapter 16 - SHE DOESN’T WANT HIS MONEY
Tristan’s instinct to reward people had always been praised.
Scholarships.
Bonuses.
Donations.
Emergency grants.
Money solved friction.
It also insulated him from understanding when money itself complicated a relationship.
Lucia’s refusal bothered him.
Not because of ego.
Because she was right.
If he rewarded basic humanity lavishly, he reinforced the idea that treating him normally was exceptional.
Rebecca said:
“You're thinking too much.”
“Possibly.”
“You could just have coffee with her.”
“We did.”
“And?”
“She insulted me.”
“Love her.”
“Everyone loves her except me.”
“You invited her.”
“Coffee.”
Rebecca smiled.
“Relax.”
There was no romance yet.
Tristan did not trust his own emotional state.
Recovery blurred gratitude, loneliness, and attachment.
He knew that.
Lucia had no interest in becoming someone’s rehabilitation fantasy.
She told her friend Janelle:
“If he ever says I taught him to live again, I’m leaving.”
Janelle laughed.
“He’s hot.”
“Still leaving.”
“Rich.”
“Faster.”
“What if he buys you hotel?”
“Then I report him.”
Lucia’s humor protected boundaries.
Meanwhile, Camilla’s relationship with Bryce began cracking.
She confronted him with the governance review.
“You never told me Andrea Cho was investigating affiliate disclosures.”
“Investigating is dramatic.”
“Reviewing.”
“Exactly.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Not your responsibility.”
Camilla stared.
For months Bryce had encouraged her to involve herself in Tristan’s leadership.
Now when risk appeared, suddenly it was not her responsibility.
Convenient.
“Did you use what happened between Tristan and me?”
“No.”
“Did you benefit?”
“Everyone benefits from circumstances.”
The answer disgusted her.
“That sounds like him.”
“Who?”
“Tristan.”
Bryce smiled.
“You still think about him.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
“No?”
Camilla walked away.
Bryce followed.
“Camilla.”
She turned.
“Did you want him to look weak?”
Bryce stopped.
Direct question.
“No.”
“Did it help your Harbor proposal?”
Silence.
“Bryce.”
“Yes.”
Honest too late.
Camilla laughed bitterly.
“Did you encourage me to talk about his recovery?”
“I encouraged accuracy.”
“You told me donors needed to understand he wasn't ready.”
“I believed that.”
“Based on what?”
Bryce’s face hardened.
“You lived with him.”
“So you used my frustration as evidence.”
“No.”
“You turned my breakup into governance.”
Bryce sighed.
“You're making this emotional.”
The sentence hit like a slap.
Exactly what he said about Tristan.
Discredit emotion.
Claim rationality.
Camilla stared at him.
“I humiliated a man in a wheelchair because I wanted to prove I had moved on.”
Bryce looked uncomfortable.
“Don't say it like that.”
“How should I say it?”
“You were angry.”
“Both.”
She stepped closer.
“And you laughed because it helped your story.”
Bryce said nothing.
Camilla left that night.
Not permanently yet.
But enough.
She checked into a hotel.
Alone.
The same kind of hotel where Lucia worked.
That irony was not lost on her.
For the first time since leaving Tristan, Camilla had no man organizing her narrative.
She hated the quiet.
It also forced honesty.
She wrote down what happened at the gala.
Like Lucia.
Not feelings.
Actions.
I moved Tristan’s wheelchair without permission.
I told him to leave.
I said I wanted him to see what winning looked like.
Bryce laughed.
Tristan stood.
I was shocked.
Then:
Afterward I implied publicly that Tristan had withheld relevant information.
Why?
To protect myself.
She stared at the page.
Simple.
Ugly.
True.
No accident trauma justified it.
No exhaustion.
No Bryce.
Context mattered.
Responsibility remained.
The next morning, she called Andrea Cho.
“I want to correct my previous statement.”
Andrea paused.
“About?”
“Tristan’s medical status and foundation capacity.”
“What changed?”
“My willingness to tell the truth.”
Andrea scheduled an interview.
Camilla looked in the mirror.
She did not feel redeemed.
Good.
Redemption should take longer than one phone call.
May you like
But truth had to begin somewhere.
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