Swapping a Broken Heart for a New Start novel Chapter 19

Camila Davis’s face, already pale from feeling sick, turned completely white as she took in the scene before her.

She’d always known Jordan Smith didn’t love her. But right now, they were still married. Maybe she could’ve looked the other way if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. But even knowing she was right there, Jordan just went ahead, holding Sandra Taylor so openly, so shamelessly.

The two of them—this was just cruel.

No one else in the private dining room noticed Camila standing in the doorway.

But Jordan did.

He clearly hadn’t expected Camila to come back at that moment. His expression shifted, just for a split second, before he put the mask back on.

He made no move to step away from Sandra. In fact, he sounded downright caring as he asked, “You alright? Can you stand?”

Sandra clutched her forehead, giggling a little, “Yeah, I’m fine...”

But her face was flushed, her steps wobbly, and she leaned into Jordan, almost collapsing against his chest.

Jordan didn’t seem annoyed at all. He just supported her shoulders, his voice indulgent, “You’re drunk. I’ll take you home.”

He grabbed Sandra’s purse and coat, straightened his suit, and told the group, “Dinner’s over for tonight, folks.”

No one dared protest. They all hurried to stand, mumbling things like, “Of course, Mr. Smith, have a good night.”

Jordan nodded and guided Sandra out.

Camila was still standing right outside the door.

As they walked past her, Sandra suddenly stopped and murmured, “Jordan, maybe I should just go home by myself. You should take Camila back—she had a few drinks tonight, too...”

She wore an expression of sweet concern, totally fake.

Jordan shot Camila a brief glance. “She only had one glass. She’ll be fine. Besides, you’re the one who can barely stand. If anything happened to you, Uncle Taylor would have my head.”

He didn’t say another word to Camila. Jordan led Sandra away, brushing right past his wife.

Camila, though, caught the look Sandra threw her—a sly, satisfied smile, like she’d just won a contest. There was nothing drunk about her at all.

Camila’s hands clenched into fists, but she didn’t try to stop them. What would be the point? Jordan had made it clear. She was always on her own.

There was that time, months ago, when she’d been forced to drink at a client dinner for her own job. She’d called Jordan to pick her up. He didn’t come—just sent a driver.

His work was always more important than her safety.

If he’d cared even a little, Sandra Taylor would never have dared challenge her like this.

She was huddled by a pillar, hair damp, eyes red-rimmed, looking so small and defeated.

Sarah hurried over, grabbing Camila’s icy hands. “Oh my god, Camila, are you okay? Jesus, your hands are freezing! And your clothes are soaked! Who did this to you? Tell me, I’ll kill them!”

Camila just shook her head, not wanting to talk. She leaned into Sarah’s arms, desperate for the comfort, for something—anything—to hold her together.

Sarah, recognizing the look in her friend’s eyes, didn’t press for answers. She rubbed Camila’s back, whispering, “Hey, it’s alright. I’m here. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. Let’s get you home, yeah? You’re freezing, and you’ll catch a cold if we stay out here.”

Camila didn’t protest.

Sarah got her into the car and drove them back to her place, which was only a few blocks away.

As soon as they stepped inside, Sarah started fussing. “Go take a hot shower, okay? I’ll get you a towel and find you some pajamas.”

Camila nodded, going along without a word.

After a long soak in the hot water, she came out to find Sarah in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. “Come sit down, I made you some ginger tea. Lots of honey, not too spicy.”

Camila sipped the tea. It was sweet—almost too sweet—but it was enough to take the edge off her bitterness, just a little.

Sarah waited until Camila finished, then set the mug aside and gently asked, “Okay. Now will you tell me what happened?”