I wasn't in trouble! I ignored Camilla's obvious flustered face as I poured batter into the cookie pans.

"Really?" She asked and I nodded. We were talking about how I had met Jonathan, which was mostly a lie.

"Before we got married, I really thought he was anti-social or something. He's very just and reasonable with his employees and in the meetings I've attended as his secretary, he's also well-spoken, so I often wondered why he had no friends. I didn't know he was different with you."

She frowned. "So what convinced you to marry him. Someone that could well have been anti-social?"

I shrugged, feeling terrible about the lie I was building on, but I had no choice. "He showed me glimpses of whom he really was. Plus, he was and still is a really kind man."

Camilla nodded. "You're right. He has always been kind." She took the pans that were filled with batter and put them in the oven, setting the timer. "What of you? How are your parents. What do they do?"

I cleared my throat. "My mom is a teacher." If I remembered correctly, that was the same thing I had told Jonathan. "I lost my father when I was really young, so it's just me and my mom."

"Has Jonathan told you a lot about his life? His family?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Not in so many words, but I've met them. His parents." I saw this as my chance to find out what really Camilla and this place meant to Jonathan, since he had refused to tell me.

She nodded. "Alright. That's good."

I waited for her to ask something else, but she didn't, instead focusing on mixing another batch of batter. There were currently two dozen cookies in the four working ovens that were in the kitchen, including the ten that had come out and were cooling on the island. Since we'd started this conversation, it had been like this. From her questions, it sounded like she wanted to hear how Jonathan was doing rather than grill me like I'd originally assumed. I could hear the sounds of laughter and shrieks from the living room, and decided to ask Camilla more questions about Jonathan.

"Do you share the cookies throughout the neighborhood or something?" I asked as I prepared another batch beside her.

"Not really. We cater to about fifty children here. Including the adult staffs and the teenagers and those older than eighteen, we average two hundred. Summer break started this week and all they've been asking for are these cookies."

I gasped. "Wow. And you do this all alone? How about feeding?" I couldn't imagine cooking for that amount of people. "Is this like an orphanage?"

She nodded. "That's why I mentioned staffs. The older ones like Stephanie also pitch in to help. I knew the kids will have a lot to talk to Jonathan, that's why I called you to assist me. I also have a lot of questions for you."

I glanced at her. "You can ask them." I reassured her, but she gave me a smile. "I'll just ask him myself." The kitchen door opened and a girl Stephanie's age entered the kitchen, their eyes on Camille, not noticing me. "Mom. Did you see this article?"

Not glancing from the batter, she was mixing with an electronic mixer. "Most likely not Karlie. Which article? What does it say?"

She got to Camille's side before she noticed me. With a confused stare at me, she corrected. "I'm Kamzi. Who is she?"

Camille sighed. "Why can't I still recognize you three with your voices? This is Danielle. Jonathan's wife."

She scoffed and looked at the phone she was holding, looking at me again, then at the phone. "Which Jonathan?" She asked slowly.

Camille turned to her. "The one you're thinking about. You came through the store, right? He's in the living room. He was here for a meeting and came over to eat now that he remembered us." She said with a wink to me and, continued. "And we'll discuss your internet use later. You didn't do what I asked you to, right?"

Without a word. Kamzi left the kitchen. She came in barely a second later and grabbed my arm. "Mom, can I have her?" She looked at the batter Camille was mixing. "Steph thought you were just arranging and getting the ingredients ready. I thought she told you not to do it. When we finish with Jonathan, we'll make it together." And with that, she dragged me out of the kitchen.

We got to the living room and Jonathan noticed me where he was seated on a couch with ten other people sitting on the floor in front of him and listening to what he was saying, I counted. As soon as he saw me, he stood up and came to meet me. Kamzi had already released my arm. Jonathan grabbed my hand and hugged Kamzi. "I know you're angry with me." He said when Kamzi pushed him away.

She sighed and looked at the people Jonathan was sitting with. "I would really love an explanation for what happened for two years."

Jonathan smiled at me and I could tell by his expression that he was trying to relieve my anxiety, and we went to the couch he was sitting on before. Thankfully, this was one of the bigger ones so we didn't have to squeeze ourselves, unlike earlier. Kamzi came to stand in front of the couch, ignoring the hands that were gesturing for her to sit beside them on the floor.

"Can you move closer?" She asked me, and I moved closer to Jonathan. With Kamzi's presence, the couch was once again too small for both of us, but with almost a dozen eyes on us, I wasn't as embarrassed as I'd been earlier. The curious stares were enough to make me forget that we were mushed together.

"So where were you?" Kamzi asked. I glanced at Jonathan to see him purse his lips. "I suggested introducing yourselves to my wife when she came out of the kitchen. Now that she's out, can you do that?"

In the minutes that followed, I learnt that the two younger girls that were with Stephanie were fourteen, not ten like I had assumed, and they were Claire and Eunice. With their size and how thin they were, it hadn't been a stretch if I was being honest. Stephanie was the oldest among the people that were gathered at twenty-three, the same age as I was. Kamzi was twenty and was part of a triplet. Karlie and Kannie, the other two, were also there, and I could understand Camille now. It wasn't just their voices that were identical, they had the same faces, color of hair and very similar build. Of the remaining five people, three were eighteen, Sam, Tony, and Iris. The remaining two were nineteen, Carlos and Stan.

I was beginning to get an idea what this place was. The fact that it was a mansion, had a large living room and kitchen and I don't know what else, averaging two hundred people, it sounded like a home or shelter. But what for? I didn't know. It was clear that aside from the triplets, the others weren't related, yet Camille had referred to them as siblings.

I nodded when they had all introduced themselves. "I'm Danielle."

Jonathan put his hands around my shoulders. "My wife." Our audience wasn't impressed with that show of possession he had just done, and the glares from them made him remove his hands.

Steph moved to a kneeling position. "So I get the fact that you're now a big shot, and you can't come and see us often after we moved here, but you had no right to get married, have it posted all over the internet and not think of telling us, or even mom. After all she has done for you."

I cringed. Steph wasn't the only one furious by that and so, not in my brightest moment, I opened my mouth. "I'm sorry. I was the one that suggested we keep it to ourselves. We actually came here to let you know after thinking it over. I had a personal reason for that, and you know, reporters are always interested in what Jonathan is doing. It wasn't particularly intentional that the pictures were published before he was able to tell you." I lied.

Jonathan's hands tightened on mine as I spoke, and I shook my head subtly when he wanted to interrupt me. After all, it was all my fault. I had come up with the idea in the first place because… because I wanted to find out about how my father had died. If then, what was I currently doing here. I shook my head in disgust at myself. Even though I hadn't found him guilty of anything either individually or by association, I couldn't forget the pen I had seen in his office, both at work and at home. Was I really putting myself as a sacrificial lamb, so his reputation with his family could be salvaged? Dad would be so ashamed of me right now. I instinctively stood up and only then remembered where I was. Everyone, from Jonathan to his siblings, were staring at me in confusion. I pushed the tears that were gradually rising to the surface and faced Steph. "Where's the bathroom, please?"

She pointed the way to me, and I faked a smile at Jonathan. "Please give me a minute. You can continue the meeting." I ignored his confused expression and practically escaped from there.

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