When Cammy finally rejoined the others, the atmosphere in the mansion had shifted.
The dining room was now behind them, and the party had gravitated toward the luxurious living room where glasses clinked, quiet jazz played in the background, and hushed conversations about business deals buzzed in the air like static.
But none of it mattered to Greg.
The moment she stepped in, his eyes locked onto her—like a magnet pulling him from the circle of suited men and strategic talk. He stood up immediately, his expression tightening with concern as he crossed the room in a few quick strides.
His hand found the small of her back, warm and grounding. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice low but urgent. "My father said he saw you rushing off to the bathroom... You look pale."
Cammy forced a small smile, willing her voice not to tremble. "I'm fine… I think it's just a tension headache starting to build—and maybe a little indigestion. The food was incredible, and I probably overdid it."
