Author's Notes: Thank you to charlesxaviers, outside the crayon box, psychotic honeybadger of death, lydiamartins, kneexsocks, riverx, lysa, amazingxlivexlovexlaughx3, cliquelover, and my 2 guest reviewers for your encouraging reviews! Really, thank you so much.

To my Guest reviewer Number 1: Since the chapters have been so short recently, I estimate that it will probs be longer than Revenge. Claire's family background will be revealed in the story. Jacklyn just named the first rich company with the last name Lyons that she could think of in that moment. They've just planted the idea of Claire being an heiress from a rival company in Ella's mind to make it worse for her. LOL. And yes, that continues to be part of the story. Thanks for your comments!

To Cliquelover: I was debating whether or not to include flashbacks, but since you requested it! I thought, why not? And wrote you a little [longer than necessary] one on how Clam met. I envision future flashbacks coming for sure of Derrick/Cam past friendship [how they became friends], a possible Masise/Derrick [maybe how they met? but only maybe because Clam is the central of this story], and of course, parent flashbacks as well. If you like this format! Because I planned on 2 sections per chapter with frequent updates, but since I'm so bad with this! I might as well write what comes. Please tell me if you like this new format. Thanks for your request and sorry for the delay. Hopefully, the updates will be frequent now that I am home with longer chapters!

Again, so sorry for the delay. I was on vacation in Vegas and let me just say, wow. But I'm back now with a long chapter for you guys and hopefully updates will be better. [Yes, I know i say this everytime, but I'm trying to mean it this time.]

Chapter Three: Meetings and Plans

##

2012

To be completely and utterly honest, Claire Lyons did not fall feet-first, head-over-heels in love with Cam Fisher the moment she met him. In fact, when Layne Abeley, a strange girl from her art class and someone fast becoming one of her best friends, slapped a flyer down on their table at their usual campus coffee spot with her regular energized gusto, Claire was wary.

"What is it?" Claire asked, setting down her coffee to pry the flyer from under Layne's fingers.

But Layne pulled back her hand along with the flyer at the last minute. She clasped the flyer protectively to her chest. "Before you look, I have an announcement to make."

Claire sat back with a surprised blink, but she was sort of used to Layne-speak by now. She pushed her friend's coffee on the table that she had preordered beforehand over to her instead and waited.

"I have found your soulmate."

The declaration was so outlandish… so Layne to Claire that she didn't even falter. "Really now?" she asked with a raised brow.

"I'm serious," Layne stressed, but she finally took her seat and accepted her drink. She dropped the crumpled flyer into her faded brown canvas bag, flipped the cap off her coffee with a clatter, and added a packet of sugar. "This was the second time I've talked to him. He's in my Music Theory class—"

"Which I still don't really understand how and why you're taking. You're an art major—"

"For the girls, obviously." Layne flicked her hair—the tips recently dyed bright pink—behind her shoulder and continued as if Claire had never interrupted. "No, but seriously, Claire, I found your future husband. He's the one for you. I know it."

"The guys that take Music Theory aren't really my type," Claire told her friend. The guys that hung around those circles on her campus tended to be too… punk for her tastes.

"Yeah, but this guy is different. Trust me. He's more… down to earth than the other guys you've met from my group of friends. Relaxed and pretty chill, but charming. Kind of intense, like you, and most importantly, really, really hot. I'd be after him in a heartbeat if I wasn't already seeing Zoe."

"What's his name?" Claire asked finally, albeit reluctantly.

"You wouldn't know him," Layne told her after gulping down her coffee. She reached for another packet of sugar. "He just started this semester, but I'm betting he's a transfer. He's older than you. His name's Cam Fisher." Her friend paused there before abandoning her coffee altogether. She leaned her elbows on the table and adopted a serious expression. "And okay, promise me you'll listen before judging."

"What?" Claire asked, amused. She wondered what amazingly awful deal-breaking detail Layne had left out about her supposed soulmate.

"He's in a band."

"Layne, no," she cried, rolling her eyes and turning to look around campus to avoid her friend's gaze.

"I knew you'd react like this," Layne snapped. "Listen, this guy is the total package. And honestly, perfect for you."

Claire wrinkled her nose. If he was in a punk rock garage band and anything like any of Layne's usual eyelinered gothic friends, she disagreed. What Layne considered perfect for her was usually the opposite. Despite both being art majors and in most of the same classes, she and Layne could be considered on opposite ends of the indie spectrum. Layne was pure rebel rocker, with multicolored hair, vibrant clothing, a nose piercing, and fishnets anything she could find in thrift stores. Claire, on the other hand, was edgy bohemian, almost New Age. She enjoyed kitchy patterns, simple jewelry, occasionally lace, and vintage stuff. Honestly, she would have gone vegetarian if she didn't worry so much about falling into the stereotype.

It wasn't prejudice. Claire got along fine with all of Layne's friends. She just wasn't interested in dating them. Her mother would never approve. Getting her to agree to allow her to take photography classes in Chicago was enough heartache. She didn't want to add more.

Still though, Claire sighed. Layne had been really excited and she did feel kind of mean for always judging her potential set ups. Layne meant well. She just wanted Claire happy. And also someone she could double date with.

She turned back to Layne. "What kind of band is he in?"

Layne rolled her eyes. "Oh, what does it matter? Every single time any band guy on campus so much as looks at you, you give them this look. I should give it a name. The Claire Lyons Rocker Freeze-Out. You know for someone really laid-back, you're also really high maintenance."

Claire's jaw dropped in complete surprise. "What? I am not. I—I don't …do that."

Layne raised both her brows in a gesture that screamed yes, you actually do. "My god… Claire, you do. You're cold shouldered to everyone I try to set you up with. Remember Tristan? The guy I tried to introduce you to last week at Kaufman's?"

"I was totally polite!" Claire corrected instantly in protest.

"Yeah," Layne sneered good-naturedly. "Polite. Who's just polite to someone they're on a double date with? You paid more attention to your bagel than you did him."

"I like Kaufman's," Claire muttered, flushing a bit red a being caught out by her friend. She hadn't realized it had been that bad. Honestly, she had just been… kind of bored. Not being part of a band or in any music classes or having gone to any rock concerts lately meant that she hadn't found much to talk about with Tristan. It would have been almost awkward if Layne and Zoe hadn't been there to defuse any and all tension.

"Have you ever given a band member a chance?"

"Yes!"

Layne's stupid brows rose again, this time in disbelief.

Claire huffed in annoyance, uncrossing her arms and leaning forward to tick off numbers on her fingers. Apparently, she'd have to prove it. "Honestly. Yes, I've given band guys a chance. Let's see. There was my first ever boyfriend back home. He was in a Red Hot Chili Peppers cover band. Yes, you heard that right. A cover band. It counts. …There was Max from freshman year. He wasn't in a band exactly, but he played guitar and was more interested in having me fawn over him and his music than actually talk about anything. …There was this one bum who was drunk off his ass on Michigan Avenue at night who serenaded me with a tambourine—"

"What?" Layne interrupted with a screech. "That doesn't count."

Claire's head snapped up from her fingers and frantic memories to scowl. "He followed me fifty feet. It counts."

Layne snickered, rolling her eyes, but she allowed Claire to continue.

"And those aren't even including all the band members you tried to set me up with."

"Wow, Claire. I'm so sorry to hear about all those traumatic experiences with band boys." Sarcasm dripped from her words like sticky syrup. Claire fake-scowled at her friend. Layne grinned back. "I hate to break it to you, Claire, but I think you've picked the wrong school to attend. This is Chicago. The Art Institute of Chicago, specifically. Everyone's in a band. I think you'd have a harder time finding a guy not in a band. With that criteria, you'll never find anyone."

Claire snorted. She deliberated, biting her lip in consideration before finally giving in to Layne's wide puppy dog eyes. "Alright, alright fine!" she snapped, standing up and tossing her coffee cup in the recycling bin. "I'll give this Cam guy a chance. I'll even act interested, just to prove you wrong."

"Perfect," Layne thrilled gleefully, standing up too. She fished back out the flyer that she had been intending to show Claire all along. "Because he invited me to watch him play tonight at that underground place, Retro Echo, I've been wanting to check out. They start soon."

Claire accepted the wrinkled flyer from her as they walked, taking in the list of band names advertised and the set list. A band name, Pavement Cures, was circled in red sharpie. She guessed that that was the band that this Cam guy was in. She sighed, linking arms with Layne and started making their way over.

But the moment she walked into the underground bar, Claire knew that it wasn't her scene. The place was filled with people in dark clothes and piercings.

With her motorcycle boots and homemade-studded skinny jeans, Layne fit right in. Though, she would have fit in anywhere even if she wasn't dressed the part. Layne just had that personality; the kind that blended and merged into any crowed but still stuck out as unique. She was the kind of person that made everyone feel comfortable. Claire though, stuck out like a sore thumb in her flowy patterned pineapple shift dress that she had found for a steal at the local Farmer's Market.

The place was dark and dim with only purple show lights shining on the stage situated in the back behind a mosh pit dance floor. There were small tables like a café, but they were made up of mismatch chairs and seats surrounding the dance floor. No one was sitting on them. Most of the patrons were jumping up and down jamming to the beat of the band currently playing, crowded around the bar trying to get drinks, or in the very back playing pool. There were no frills. It was completely as is.

Claire felt completely out of her zone. This was edgier than anywhere she'd ever been.

"There he is," Layne cried, already moving to the beat of the heavy guitar. She tugged her along forward more into the bar and pointing to a group of guys standing at the edge of the stage, watching the show. Claire had been awkwardly standing near the entrance surveying the area, wondering what Layne had gotten her into. "He's the one with the leather jacket. It looks like we made it, they haven't gone on yet."

To be completely and utterly honest again, at first glance, Claire didn't see what it was about Cam Fisher that made Layne declare them soulmates. Sure, he was really attractive, but Claire had always been wary of good looking guys. Experience told her they were either total douchebags or full of themselves. And Cam was the kind of guy that she would pass by on campus before blushing and looking away, knowing that she never stood a chance. He was the kind of guy that inspired groupies.

Claire faltered, tugging Layne back with nervous eyes. "Layne, I don't know about this anymore."

Layne turned back to face her instantly. She leaned in close to Claire with concerned eyes. "What's wrong?" And before Claire even had to answer, Layne had understood her completely. She was feeling out of place. "Hey, I admit this place was more goth than I thought, but I swear, Cam's not like that. He's actually pretty hipster," she laughed.

Claire furrowed her brows in skepticism.

"If you're not interested, you're not interested. This doesn't have to be all about him. Yeah, I know this isn't your crowd, but that just means you can let loose. Let's just have fun! You'll never see these people again."

That was probably true. Claire allowed herself to relax, once again soothed by her friend Layne's upbeat reassurance and confidence. She even found herself nodding to the beat of the drums as Layne tugged her closer to Cam at the other end of the bar.

He looked up and spotted them. His grin was sunny bright.

"Layne! Hey," he greeted loudly over the music as they came to a stop near him. "Glad you could make it."

"Cam, this is my friend, Claire." Layne literally threw her to the wolves; pushing her forward and into Cam's direct line of sight. She tried to smother a scowl at her friend. Way to be obvious, Layne, she thought with an internal eye roll.

"Hey," Cam called over the music. He glanced back at Layne though. "Can I get you guys a drink?"

When they murmured their assent and Cam headed over to the bar, Layne elbowed Claire in the side. "Stop it. That's the Look."

"Ow!" Claire cried, rubbing her probably bruised ribs. "I'm not—not on purpose, at least."

Layne rolled her eyes, turning to Cam as he returned with their drinks. Layne accepted them both before handing one to Claire. Cam gestured to one of the tables on the side and they all slid into their respective seats. At the urging of her best friend, Claire decided to give it a real try. She observed him over her cup. He was more attractive up close. Clean shaven and earnest, he was honestly nothing like Layne's other band friends.

But a few minutes into the loud conversation and laughter over the music, it became apparent that Cam had no idea that this was a set up. His attitude was all casual, though he was listening with rapt attention to Layne's analysis of indie rock and its transition back to the ways of classic alternative.

Awkwardly, Claire realized with wide eyes, Cam seemed more interested in Layne.

Seriously? she thought in surprise, taken aback. Does he not know that Layne is taken?

It wasn't until Cam was called onstage to perform that Claire really looked at him with open eyes, allowing the situation a moment of consideration. It was the embarrassed grimace on his face that caught her attention. "I'm up next. Sorry about this."

Layne smiled softly, tugging on her bright pink ends. "We can catch up after."

"Enjoy the show!" Cam called to her as he whipped off his leather jacket and hopped up on stage, accepting the guitar his band mate handed him.

"Hot, right?" Layne said, turning to her with eyebrow wiggles. Claire glanced around in embarrassment. The words had been pretty loud since Pavement Cures was only just introducing themselves on stage.

Yeah, Claire had to agree. But it wasn't just that. Now that Claire was allowing herself to consider him, it was more than that. He was different than anyone that she had ever met. Layne was right, he didn't seem like the usual type at all. He eluded a kind of confidence that couldn't be faked and he actually was charming. He enjoyed things as they came with a relaxed ease and quiet masculinity that was actually really appealing and he was apparently a good listener. He had a self-deprecating wit and a smile that drew her eye. He put his all into the music, not even noticing the audience cheering them on. But when he looked up over at them head on, Claire noticed with a start that his eyes were different colors. One was green and the other was blue. Against, the dim purple lights of the stage, they almost glowed.

With his light skin and dark hair, his eyes were so intense. That was when Claire began to see… in a whole new light (literally) the guy that her friend was so excited for her to meet.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis, but it's just the price you pay

And before she knew it, Claire was on the dance floor with Layne, taking in his lyrics, moving herself freely against a mob of people having the time of their lives.

She was one of them.

Afterwards, when Cam approached them after his set, ignoring the people crowding around his band clamoring for their attention, wiping his sweat with his The Strokes t-shirt, exposing his abdomen, Claire's breath caught. She was panting and sweaty and probably really gross, but Cam didn't seem to mind at all.

Without even really noticing it, Claire was sucked into his orbit, pulled into his conversational zone. She found herself animated. Freed from the drink, maybe or the liberty of dancing wildly just for herself or Cam's undivided attention, Claire found herself engaging with him for real this time. Discussing everything from her new photography project on the evolution of architecture in cities, to her personal thoughts and analysis of his band's lyrics, to her mother's weird reluctance for her to be so far away at school in Chicago, to the newest place she had tried out that had the best thin crust pizza, to the funny thing her Fine Arts professor had said that morning.

Cam was so open, Claire found herself open too. And when Layne stood up from the table with a sly, knowing smile saying that she had to go and meet Zoe, Cam and Claire decided to get another drink.

Which led to another drink. Which led to dinner at the Claire's new favorite restaurant that served the opposite of Chicago's famed deep dish pizzas (Cam fell in love with place too). Which led to gelato on the corner of Michigan Avenue (Claire ordered strawberry and gummy bears and Cam ordered chocolate with the same). Which led to a walk through campus (since Cam insisted on escorting her back to her room).

He was a gentleman, Claire found herself thinking in surprise when her draped his leather jacket over her in the Chicago night mist.

They passed another college student sitting up against the wall, strumming his guitar as they walked together.

Oh please don't drop me home, because it's not my home, it's their home and I'm welcome no more, the guy with wide-rimmed glasses was strumming and singing.

"Hey, isn't this The Smiths?" Cam asked, tilting his head. "Listen…"

"Oh my god," Claire cried, turning to him in surprise. "It's 'The Light That Never Goes Out'!" It completely blew Claire's mind that a guy like Cam …who listened to the Strokes, who rocked alternative New Wave, who wore leather jackets and liked gummies more than even her, and who was so ridiculously attractive that it was almost criminal, knew her favorite band and one of her favorite songs. Enough to even recognize a bastardized acoustic version.

"He's not bad," Cam grinned with a shrug, fishing out his wallet and tossing a couple dollars into the student's open guitar case.

"To die by your side, is such heavenly way to die," Cam sang along, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets and rocking on his heels, oblivious to the incredulous look in her eyes.

Holy shit, Claire realized with a start. He couldn't be real. She had spent almost five late night hours straight engrossed in vivid conversation with him, laughing and joking and eating with him, like he was her oldest friend. It was like she was a whole other person. But she hadn't been, not really. She had been herself. And she had to slowly admit it.

Layne had been right.

Cam Fisher might just be her soulmate.

##

After a few gatherings of strategically asked questions at the regular luncheons each Westchester family threw in rotation, Ella Fisher had finally fished out as much as she could of the disturbing rumor involving her baby son (from Alicia, Josh, and Derrick).

Which wasn't much.

Just that apparently, her son and this Claire Lyons girl had been dating for almost two years.

She had known that allowing her son to attend school so far away was a terrible, terrible idea. But after, everything with… her other son… Ella had learned to loosen the reins a bit and allow her younger son a bit more freedom to do as he desired (so long as he stepped up to the plate, when the time came).

She had learned that pushing her sons to do what she explicitly desired was impossible if they had to give all the time. So, Ella had learned her first lesson and allowed compromise to seep into their interactions. She allowed Cameron little freedoms in exchange for future favors. Like his duty… and birthright.

It wasn't that she was surprised that her son had a new girlfriend. What surprised her (and annoyed her to no end) was that it had taken her this long to find out about it. Anyone could see that he was a prime target specimen, what with his background and inheritance and legacy, and over the years there had been plenty of girls. All of them had been insignificant in Ella's eyes, since she knew that her son wasn't really serious about any them.

They were flings. He wasn't ready to settle down yet.

But this time was different.

Ella had a theory about men; one that she herself put to the test and proved fact. She truly believed that men in their social circles were spewing complete bullshit when they talked about 'being in true love' and 'finding the one'. Marriage was merely a matter of timing. As a young teenager, she had heard plenty of stories of women dating their dream men for four years or more, only to break up, turn around, and find them engaged to their new girlfriends after only about six months. And it was in that realization that Ella knew she wouldn't be making the same mistake.

Whenever a man was finished sowing his oats and ready to settle down, whichever girl that happened to be there at the time would be considered 'the one'.

In actuality, that was exactly how she had caught Matthew Fisher, at precisely the right moment.

And now, her baby Cameron was ripe for the plucking.

If Cameron was bringing this girl home to New York to attend his best friend's Derrick wedding… it meant things were getting serious. Serous enough that he purposely never mentioned this girl's existence to his own mother. Serious enough to almost ruin everything.

Sitting here on the French veranda balcony of the Fisher's historic estate, surrounded by the upper crust ladies she had worked so hard all her life to integrate herself into, planning the charity event of the season, Ella did not take for granted what it all meant.

Because to Ella, everyone single person occupied a specific space in the elaborately constructed social circles in her mind. Like most of the other woman surrounding her, she could meet another person anywhere in the world—from shopping at the L'Eclaireur in Paris to drinking at the Le Crystal lounge in Monte Carlo to brunch at Il Fresno in Westchester—and within a minute of learning their full name and where they lived, could implement a proven social theorem and calculate exactly where they stood in her social constellation.

Based on how long they've been in America, who their family was and anyone else relevant they were related to, how their fortune was derived (the right way or the dirty way), how they dressed and presented themselves, what family scandals had occurred recently in the past few years and how likely they were to occur again, how much property they owned (from where they were based and where they vacationed in the summertime), Ella could derived their approximate net worth and determine whether or not any association or interaction with them would positively or negatively affect her and her family… and act accordingly.

The Lyons of Lyons Motorcars were very, very new money. The kind that gave her a cross between a splitting headache of embarrassment to shudders of unrepressed horror. The kind of new money everyone tried to dissociate from. Worse than the Riveras and worse than the Marvils, if that was even possible. The kind with daughters that guest stared on reality TV shows and flashed paparazzi in the streets out of pure enjoyment. One of the cousins had even been caught in an underage sex tape scandal three years ago. Last she heard, one of the family sons had wrapped his new unnecessary and flashy Lamborghini Aventador around a telephone pole on vacation and was only just pardoned.

The fact that they were from a rival company just took the cake.

Her baby should have known better. She had raised him smarter than that. Obviously, this girl had bewitched and entranced him into forgetting everything that she had tried to protect him from.

The mother of this girl was cunning, Ella seethed, to encourage her daughter to latch onto her son. Even if her daughter didn't snag her baby's fortune, she would get the reputation of ties to old money they so desired. And possible developments in the auto industry if her son didn't guard their family secrets close to his chest.

Ella was pulled back into current events at the sound Tessa Hurley's voice.

"Is everything alright, Ella?" Tessa was saying. The other ladies—assembled for the Conservation committee meeting—were eyeing her in unguarded interest posing as concern.

"Yes, of course, Tess," she flustered in response at her awkward faux pas. Too consumed with thoughts of her son and his parasitic opportunist girlfriend, Ella had completely zoned out, frozen and staring down at the lemon with gelatinous red cherry filling and Royal icing tart they were all sampling for the banquet.

Nadia, of course, couldn't resist bringing it up again. She just loved to see Ella so ill at ease and uncomfortable. It so rarely happened that they all got a thrill from it.

"Is this about Cameron, Ella?" Nadia hedged. "Have you discovered more about his infamous girlfriend?"

Ella took a deep breath and opened her eyes. It was then and there that she decided that she needed to call in all reinforcements. She would need all the support and all the help she could get (despite how much she loathed to admit it).

"Cameron doesn't realize what horrible mistake he's making with this girl. And now I've discovered he's not even going to stay with us at our house when he arrives! He's always stayed with me. Anna, your son told me he's going to stay at the Saint Sherry's with that girl! As if he's trying to hide her from us. Oh god, how is this going to look?" Ella cried dramatically as she smeared the chilled coconut-and-Belgium chocolate pudding on the side of the intricately detailed Villeroy dessert plate.

Kendra tsked in sympathy, but Anna and Jacklyn raised their brows.

"How distasteful," Marsha couldn't help but chime in. "Sharing a bed like that, when they aren't even married. You know what people are going to think, Ella? That they've eloped and they're coming to New York for their honeymoon!"

The ladies with single daughters just couldn't stop themselves from fanning Ella's flames. Not that they needed any stroking. She was already at boiling point.

"Who does this girl think she is?" Nadia threw in, hiding her delighted smile at Marsha joining in on her plan. "How dare this Lyons girl think that she can just waltz right into Westchester on Cameron's arm without your approval? She obviously has no idea how things work."

"Mmm!" Tessa agreed, dropping her dessert fork and shaking her head in frustration. "Children these days. None of the proper etiquette. My son is exactly the same. At least, your son finally admitted that he was bringing someone home. I can't even expect from any of my children. I have to find out in the papers how they're doing. But, what can you do? This is what happens when you let them attend college halfway around the world."

"Ella, you have to watch out for these new money girls," Jacklyn threw in slyly as she scooped more dessert. She was the only one still sampling (it helps to have an esteemed plastic surgeon for a husband). Ella was quick to catch the jab though. She knew exactly what Jacklyn was referring to. "They aren't like the new money girls of our generation. They're craftier."

"I hope she's not one of those hurricanes," Masha added in agreement.

"What? What hurricane?" Ella asked, her ears still ringing in furious anger at Jacklyn's subtle remark. She hadn't been paying attention.

"You know! How notorious these new money girls can be. They swoop in unexpectedly and out of nowhere, the men fall head over heels, and before you know it they're gone, but not before sucking up every single dollar, just like a hurricane," Anna explained to her patiently.

As Ella blinked in rising horror, Julia Gedman nodded sagely before adding, "Many men have fallen prey. Remember the McAdams middle son? That ex-wife of his purposely introduced him to the girl who became his mistress, and then used that as an excuse to get a huge divorce settlement! The McAdams had to sell their renowned beach front property to pay her off."

"Ummph," Grace Plovert jumped in. She couldn't hold it in any longer either. "Stacy was so modest at first; quiet, reserved, and polite. But the moment that thirty-carat diamond was on her finger, she transformed into the Queen of Morroco. Now it's Prada this and Prada that. Prada everything! And the money she spends. Have you seen how she forced my Chris into wasting money by hiring that security team to escort her everywhere when she's on vacation? Like she's worth anything. Who would want to kidnap her? My son is the one who should have bodyguards, not this new money girl!"

"Oh, god," Ella moaned as if she was in agony. "I don't what I'm going to do when my son brings home a girl like that."

"You know exactly what you have to do," Nadia soothed consolingly, patting Ella's hand and staring meaningfully at her. Ella glanced up and met her eyes. She turned at looked at Grace and Marsha and Julia's eyes… and then she did know.

She couldn't allow this girl to hurricane her son and her family.

And she had the perfect help. None of these ladies wanted her son married to new money.

"You need to protect your son," Nadia told her. "I can give you the number to my PI, I have him on speed dial. He's all the way in Massachusetts, but I guarantee you that he'll dig up every piece of dirt available on this Claire Lyons girl for you."

"I can't head to Massachusetts," Ella replied. "Cameron and that girl will be arriving soon."

"Ella, I think that now is the perfect time to go. Think about it. They're not even staying at your home. You have an excuse not be here and in not welcoming them at first sight, you'll have the complete upper hand. And you'll be showing all of society that you're not rolling out the red carpet for this girl and welcoming her with open arms. And if she is a hurricane, you won't lose face in already being buddy-buddy with her," Marsha continued.

"Plus, you'll have information on her. All her dirty secrets," Julia widened her eyes in a delighted gasp. "Maybe she was married before. Maybe she sent nudes out to past boyfriends. Maybe she had a child at sixteen. Maybe she's a con artist—"

"Oh god," Ella cried, signalling to her maid. "I think I need a Xanax."

"Ladies!" Anna chided over their voices. The ladies all deferred to her and shut up. "Stop scaring Ella. We don't know anything about this girl yet, maybe it's nothing at all. She might end up being a wonderful daughter in law."

Ella accepted the glass of water from her maid and gulped down her pill. She set down the glass and took a deep, calming breath, considering everything that all her friends had said. She opened her eyes.

"Marsha, you were always so smart. And Nadia, you're completely right. Can I stay at your beautiful estate in Dover?"

"Of course! I'll come with you. I haven't been visited my estate in years. Does anyone else want to come with us this weekend?" Nadia thrilled, ecstatic.

Kendra and Anna were out of the picture (what with the upcoming wedding) and Jacklyn had enough self-preservation to decline.

Nadia turned to Tessa. "What about you, Tess? Are you in?" She hoped that Tessa could be roped into it and they would be able to use her private plane.

Tessa pulled out her phone and clicked through her schedule. "I'll have to check with Sebastian, but I think if we leave before the weekend, we can take the plane. He needs to fly to Europe to take over some stocks on this new internet company this week and then Kemp is using the plane for Derrick's bachelor party sometime soon…"

"Then let's stay for a whole week!" Nadia declared. "We can do a spa weekend."

Ella began to perk up. "That sounds like a great plan. Cameron has made it plain that he can last without me for a while. He and this girl can manage on their own for now. And I'll return after, refreshed and armed with valuable information."

"Your valuable ammunition, you mean," Julia corrected with a laughed.

With a plan of action and support from all the ladies, Ella began to feel her body slowly relaxing. She was feeling more and more like herself. She looked around for her phone and covertly started to text her stockbroker. Tessa always knew exactly what stocks were going up and what were going down through her husband. She helped them all out by telling them which to short and which to buy. "Oh, Tessa. What was the name of that internet company your husband was planning to take over again?"

She signaled for the caterers to continue. She accepted a plate of petit-fours and picked up her dessert fork.

It tasted like victory.

##

Author's Note: Claire and Cam's own little world is so different from the world of Westchester. Here's was a look at that. Also, lyrics from The Killers. No real reason, I just picked a random song. The other song is credited. My stories and characters are so AU it's not even funny. I'm sorry.

For the record, Layne did not know that Cam was a rich kid rebelling from his parents in Chicago. He is really a business major [per his parent's expectations] taking Music Theory classes for fun. It shows you that Claire's not a golddigger, obviously.

I posted cast pictures on my profile. Check it out if you're interested!

Review if you life?