Broken Walls

31. Forever Today [Extra Lemony Scene]

Author's Note:

Currently working for a new Shamila fic, and yes holy shit, I can't fucking move on from Shamila fics considering so much goodness I got from the MMVA. I AM SCREAMING, CAN YOU TELL? Thanks Qay for the updates! What would I do without you fueling in the Shamila in me? 

Anyway, this scene takes place not long after Hands That Heal, to give you a slight insight into what happened to the rest of the characters. Intense (I swear it is) lemons ahead, just a warning!

Happy reading loves!

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Long after the last spectator left the courtroom, Camila sat amongst the empty seats, her fingers curled around the handle of her cane, and her eyes staring forward at the raised bench from where the judge had handed down his verdict.

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.

She could hardly believe it was real. That it was finally over. For so many months after the truth had come out, she'd waited for this day. Waited for the moment she might feel free. It didn't feel as she'd expected. She'd thought she'd feel lighter, that her pain and sacrifice would finally have meaning. But when they'd taken her father from the courtroom, his hands cuffed behind his back, wrinkles forming in his seven hundred dollar suit, he hadn't even glanced in her direction. It was as if she didn't exist. As if she hadn't spent nineteen years believing she was his.

Her brother, Carlos, sat at her side the whole time, his body tense and straight. Camila knew this was harder for him. He'd lived his whole life seeing their father through rose-colored glasses. His mind had been conditioned to believe the man was good, that he may have been shrewd in business, but that was just how the business world worked. He'd never imagined the man who'd groomed him from an early age to be his protégé, was capable of such horrors, such monstrosities.

That he was capable of murder.

When the details of their mother's death came to light in the aftermath of what happened during the night Camila was shot, Carlos had a hard time believing it to be true. He'd known for some time their father's business practices were questionable, but murder? And the murder of a woman he had claimed to love at that, was more than Carlos could comprehend. But Camila had been there through it all. She'd comforted him, convinced him. And when the gavel came down, she held his hand.

Camila ran that same hand over her pulled back hair, trying her hardest to get the look in his eyes out of her mind. So empty. So dead. So like the father they'd grown up with. All she could do now was hope he learned from his father's mistakes and continued on a path that wouldn't destroy him too.

With a sigh, she gathered her bag from under the chair and stood, barely putting any weight on the cane as she did. She hardly needed it now, but had grown so used to having it that it was hard for her to leave it behind. It gave her a sense of steadiness, of safety, even though the pain in her side was all but gone.