Chapter 4
Camille’s version was uglier because she believed parts of it were reasonable.
“My father was erased.”
She sat across the music room from me.
Not restrained.
Four guards nearby.
No need for drama.
“Your father tried to split mine.”
“Because your father humiliated him.”
“Maybe.”
I did not need to make dead men saints.
“What did that have to do with Emma?”
Her face hardened.
“Everything became Emma.”
There.
Jealousy finally entered the room.
I waited.
“Dinner schedules.”
“She's three.”
“Vacations.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Which wing gets renovated.”
“For her playroom.”
“Which events you leave early.”
“When she’s sick.”
Camille laughed bitterly.
“Exactly.”
I stared.
“You expected to become more important than her.”
“I expected to become your wife.”
“Those are not the same sentence.”
Silence.
That landed.
She had wanted hierarchy.
Wife above daughter.
Future children above existing child.
Arden branch restored through marriage.
Miles controlling security.
And Emma?
A small person constantly proving Adrian Bellucci had a loyalty nobody else could outrank.
“What was Ashford?”
Camille crossed her arms.
“A break.”
“For who?”
“For all of us.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“For you.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“She listens.”
“She hears.”
“She repeats things.”
“She is three.”
“You keep saying that like it excuses everything.”
“No.”
My voice dropped.
“I keep saying it because you keep describing normal childhood as political misconduct.”
Her mouth tightened.
Then she said it.
“She heard Miles call me his wife.”
“No.”
I looked toward the piano.
“She heard you call him your husband.”
Different.
Camille had made the mistake.
Then punished the child for hearing it.
“What else did she hear?”
Nothing.
I waited.
Her silence became answer.
I looked toward Miles.
He closed his eyes.
Then said:
“She heard Camille say that once you married, the east security detail would answer to me first.”
There.
The real transition.
May you like
Not romance.
Command.
