“Sit down, Marc.”
He laughed shortly.
“Now you’re giving me orders in my own house?”
Camille did not look away.
“This house has never belonged to you.”
Marc’s face froze.
“What did you just say?”
“I said this house was never yours. I bought it before we married, with my own money. It is in my name. And our prenuptial agreement protects my personal assets very clearly. You knew that, Marc. You simply chose to pretend you had forgotten.”
For a fraction of a second, he turned pale. Then he tried to compose himself.
“You’re exhausted. Work stress is making you say ridiculous things.”
“I’m not going to Lyon.”
Silence fell over the living room. Marc blinked.
