Chapter 3 - Camille Learns the Price of Luxury
Camille woke in a Georgetown penthouse overlooking the Potomac.
For years, she had imagined this kind of morning.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
Italian marble.
Fresh orchids.
A kitchen larger than the first apartment she'd shared with Elijah.
Yet she had barely slept.
Adrien stood near the windows speaking sharply into his phone.
"No. He cannot have opened it already."
Camille froze.
Adrien turned.
Their eyes met.
He ended the call.
"Opened what?"
"Business."
"You said he was lying last night."
"I was angry."
"You knew his father."
Adrien poured coffee.
"I knew of him."
Camille crossed her arms.
"Why did you know where he died?"
Adrien's jaw tightened.
"Camille, you left a bad marriage. Don't turn this into some conspiracy because Elijah suddenly discovered money."
"My marriage wasn't bad."
The admission escaped before she could stop it.
Adrien stared at her.
Camille looked away.
Elijah had never hit her.
Never cheated.
Never embarrassed her.
He packed Nia's lunches, remembered pediatric appointments, fixed Camille's car before she knew anything was wrong, and took overtime whenever the mortgage got tight.
What he had failed to be was impressive.
At least that was what Camille had told herself.
Her phone rang.
Her attorney.
The conversation lasted six minutes.
When it ended, Camille looked pale.
Adrien asked, "What?"
"My attorney says Elijah's inherited assets aren't marital property."
Adrien's expression hardened.
"And?"
"And nothing."
"Nine years of marriage and you get nothing?"
Camille stared.
"I didn't marry him for money."
Adrien laughed once.
"Apparently you didn't marry him for ambition either."
Something cold entered her stomach.
"What exactly do you want from Elijah?"
Adrien approached.
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
His charming expression disappeared.
"Be careful."
Camille had never heard that tone from him.
Not directed at her.
She stepped backward.
Adrien noticed and softened instantly.
"I'm sorry."
But the damage was done.
That afternoon Camille drove back toward Catonsville.
She told herself she needed clothes.
Really, she needed to see Nia.
Elijah's truck wasn't home.
Mrs. Henderson from next door was watching Nia.
The little girl ran toward Camille.
"Mommy!"
Camille dropped to her knees.
Nia crashed into her arms.
For several seconds, Camille couldn't speak.
Then Nia pulled back.
"Are you done leaving?"
The question broke something.
"What?"
"Daddy said you needed time."
Camille swallowed.
"Did Daddy say anything else?"
Nia shook her head.
"He made pancakes."
Of course he had.
Camille kissed her forehead.
Then she noticed two black SUVs turning onto Maple Street.
They stopped outside.
Mara Whitfield stepped from one.
Elijah emerged from the other.
He saw Camille and stopped.
His expression remained calm.
"You're here."
"I wanted to see Nia."
"Good."
No anger.
No jealousy.
Somehow that made Camille feel worse.
Mara approached.
"Mrs. Brooks."
Camille glanced at Elijah.
"Still Mrs. Brooks for another few weeks."
Mara's eyes were unreadable.
"Possibly longer."
Camille frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Elijah interrupted.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
Mara handed him a tablet.
"Board meeting moved to four."
"Board?"
Camille stared.
Elijah looked uncomfortable rather than proud.
"Apparently I have several."
Mara almost smiled.
"Thirty-two."
Camille's mouth opened.
Elijah turned toward Nia.
"Hey, bug."
Nia ran to him.
He lifted her effortlessly.
"Daddy, Mommy came back."
The hope in her voice devastated Camille.
Elijah's face softened.
"She came to see you."
The distinction was gentle but unmistakable.
Camille's phone buzzed.
Adrien.
WHERE ARE YOU?
She ignored it.
Then another message arrived.
DO NOT LET ELIJAH MEET WITH MARA ALONE.
Her blood chilled.
She looked at Mara.
"Why shouldn't Elijah meet you alone?"
Mara's eyes sharpened.
"Who told you that?"
Camille realized her mistake.
Elijah put Nia down.
"Camille."
She showed him the phone.
For the first time, she chose transparency.
Elijah read the message.
Mara said, "We need to move."
"Why?" Camille asked.
Elijah looked at her.
"Because your boyfriend apparently knows my schedule."
Twenty minutes later, Camille sat at the kitchen table while Mara opened the flash drive from Locker 317 on an isolated laptop.
Folders appeared.
Contracts.
Bank transfers.
Corporate maps.
Then a video.
Solomon Brooks appeared on screen.
Older.
Thin.
Sick.
But his eyes were clear.
"If Elijah is watching this, Malcolm Cole's family has probably already moved."
Camille covered her mouth.
Solomon continued.
"They will not come for Elijah with guns. Men like Malcolm learned decades ago that contracts are cleaner than bullets."
Elijah leaned closer.
"Adrien will likely use someone Elijah trusts."
Camille went completely still.
On screen, Solomon coughed.
"If that person is Camille, do not blame her until you know what she was told."
Camille whispered, "What?"
Elijah turned toward her.
Solomon continued.
"Because six years ago, someone inside Cole Development began building a psychological profile on my son."
Mara clicked another folder.
A document opened.
ELIJAH BROOKS — LEVERAGE ASSESSMENT.
Below it:
PRIMARY ACCESS VECTOR: CAMILLE BROOKS.
Camille's knees nearly gave out.
Pages of photographs followed.
Her leaving work.
Her at coffee shops.
Her and Nia at the grocery store.
Her arguing with Elijah outside a restaurant two years earlier.
Then Camille saw something worse.
A photograph of herself meeting Adrien for the first time at a charity fundraiser.
Date stamped fourteen months ago.
Underneath:
CONTACT SUCCESSFUL.
Camille stared at the screen.
"He planned it."
Nobody answered.
Tears filled her eyes.
"He planned meeting me."
Elijah's expression didn't change.
But his hand closed into a fist.
Mara scrolled farther.
A final entry appeared.
PHASE TWO: MARITAL SEPARATION.
TARGET DATE: BEFORE TRUST ACTIVATION.
Camille looked at Elijah.
For the first time since walking away with her silver suitcase, she understood the full cruelty of what she had done.
Adrien hadn't rescued her from an ordinary life.
He had studied her dissatisfaction, fed it, and turned her against the one person he needed isolated.
Then Elijah's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
"What happened?"
He listened.
Then looked directly at Nia.
"When?"
Camille stood.
"What is it?"
Elijah lowered the phone.
"Nia's preschool called."
"Why?"
"Someone came yesterday asking what time I normally pick her up."
Camille went white.
"And they gave a name."
May you like
Elijah looked toward the photograph of Malcolm Cole.
"Malcolm."
