Chapter 5

CAMILLE’S POINT OF VIEW

The hotel parking garage was eerily quiet. My heels clicked against the concrete, the sound echoing off empty cars and shadowed pillars. It was late, past midnight, but something felt wrong, unsettling.

My confrontation with Rose and my family had left me drained, emotionally empty except for a cold satisfaction at finally seeing through her facade. I fumbled with my key fob, longing only to reach my room and plan my next move.

A car door slammed in the darkness. I stopped, listening. Only the hum of fluorescent lights and distant traffic broke the silence.

My phone buzzed in my purse; it was Rose. I declined the call, but not before noticing my signal had dropped to one bar. Perfect.

Then, I heard footsteps behind me—multiple sets.

I quickened my pace, cursing my choice of heels. The hotel elevator was just around the corner, past a row of pillars. If I could just reach it…

“Going somewhere, Mrs. Rodriguez?”

A tall, broad-shouldered man in black emerged from behind a pillar. Two more appeared behind me, blocking my escape. This wasn’t random.

“Actually, it’s Ms. Lewis now,” I said, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “And I have a dinner reservation, so if you’ll excuse me…”

The first man smiled—an unpleasant smile. “I’m afraid your plans have changed.”

I clutched my purse tighter, feeling for the pepper spray I’d started carrying after the divorce. “Did my sister send you? Or was it Stefan?”

“Our employer prefers to remain anonymous.” He stepped closer. “Now, we can do this the easy way…”

I didn’t let him finish. The pepper spray hit him directly in the eyes. He screamed, stumbling backward. I ran, kicking off my heels as I sprinted for the elevator, the other two men shouting and pursuing me.

Almost there. Just a few more steps…

A sharp pain exploded in my scalp as someone yanked my hair, pulling me backward. My purse flew open, its contents scattering across the concrete.

“That wasn’t very nice,” the first man snarled, his voice rough with pain and anger. “Hold her.”

Strong hands seized my arms. I fought back, kicking and scratching, but they were too strong, too professional, too trained.

“Our employer said you might be difficult,” the first man said, wiping his streaming eyes. “Said you needed to learn your place.”

Rose. This was undeniably Rose’s doing. Her final, cruel message, a stark reminder of my powerlessness.

“If you’re going to kill me,” I spat, “at least have the guts to look me in the eyes.”

He laughed. “Kill you? No, no. Just a message. A reminder of what happens to people who don’t know when to let go.”

A punch to my stomach stole my breath. I doubled over, gasping, but the men held me upright.

“See, some people don’t understand their role in life.” Another blow landed on my ribs. “Some people need to be taught…”

I tasted blood, my vision blurring as pain ripped through my body. But I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t give Rose that satisfaction.

“That’s enough.”

A female voice, sharp and authoritative, cut through the garage. My attackers tensed. Through blurry vision, I saw figures emerging from the shadows—men in suits, moving with military precision. And behind them… a woman. Tall, elegant, perhaps in her fifties, but ageless. She wore a black designer suit, her silver hair perfectly coiffed.

But it was her eyes that captivated me—sharp, intelligent, and strangely familiar.

“Ma’am,” one of my attackers began, “our employer…”

“Is about to have a very bad day,” the woman interrupted, her voice like ice. “Release her. Now.”

The hands holding me released their grip. I slumped forward, pain stabbing my ribs.

“Secure them,” she commanded, and her men moved swiftly. My attackers didn’t resist; they knew better.

She approached me, her designer heels clicking on the concrete.

“Camille Lewis.” A statement, not a question. She knew who I was.

I tried to straighten, to salvage some dignity despite my split lip and torn dress. “Do I know you?”

Her eyes softened, ever so slightly, as if recognizing something, someone else in my face.

“No,” she replied. She gestured, and more men appeared with a medical kit. “But I knew someone very much like you, once. Someone who also had to learn the hard way about trust and betrayal.”

The world swam around me. Blood dripped onto my ruined dress, each breath a fresh wave of agony.

“Who…” I swayed, darkness closing in. “Who are you?”

She caught me as my knees buckled. Up close, I could smell her perfume—expensive, unique, a scent that brushed the edge of my memory.

“Someone who’s been watching you for a very long time, Camille.” Her voice seemed distant. “Someone who’s going to help you become everything they tried to prevent.”

Darkness encroached. But before it consumed me completely, I heard her final words:

“After all… you look just like my daughter.”

Then, only black.