Chapter 20
Camille’s point of view.
The voice behind me sent the frame tumbling from my hands. It hit the carpet with a muffled thud as I spun around.
Victoria stood in the doorway, her expression a storm of fury and pain. Her usually perfect appearance was disheveled, clothes wrinkled from travel, hair slightly mussed, as if she’d rushed home unexpectedly.
“L…I thought you were in Tokyo,” I stammered, heart hammering against my ribs.
“Flight canceled due to mechanical issues.” Her eyes swept the room, cataloging any disturbance I might have caused. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I could have lied. Could have claimed I got lost, accidentally found the key, had innocent reasons for snooping But something in Victoria’s face, the raw wound exposed beneath her anger, demanded honesty.
“I was curious,” I admitted, bending to retrieve the fallen photo frame. “About the locked wing. About why it was. off–limits.”
“So you invaded my privacy. Searched my office for the key. Entered a space clearly meant to remain closed.” Each sentence fell like a judgment, cold and precise.
“Yes.” No excuses. No justifications.
Victoria’s gaze settled on the photo in my hands. Something flickered across her expression, grief so intense it momentarily overwhelmed the anger.
“Put that down,” she said quietly. “And get out.”
I carefully returned the frame to its place. “Victoria, I…”
“Now.”
I moved toward the door, expecting her to step aside. Instead, she remained planted in the doorway, forcing me to squeeze past her, close enough to feel the rigid tension in her body, to smell the subtle scent of her perfume mixed with the staleness of long–haul travel.
In the sitting area, I paused, turning back to find her still watching from Sophia’s doorway, one hand gripping the frame as if for support.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I shouldn’t have…”
“Do you know what today is?” she interrupted, voice unnaturally controlled.
I shook my head, unease growing at the intensity of her gaze.
“It’s her birthday.” Victoria’s knuckles whitened on the doorframe. “She would have been thirty–three today.”
The revelation hit like a physical blow. Of all days to violate this sanctuary, I’d chosen the one when Victoria’s grief would be freshest, most raw,
“I didn’t know,” I whispered.
“No.” Something in her tone shifted, the cold fury giving way to something more complex. “You didn’t. Because I never told you.”
She finally stepped away from the doorway, moving to the chess board in the sitting area. With careful precision, she adjusted one of the pieces, a knight moving to threaten a bishop.
“Sophia loved chess,” she said, not looking at me. “Insisted it helped her think strategically. We played every Sunday morning. This was our last game, the morning before she died.”
I remained motionless, afraid any movement might shatter this unexpected moment of vulnerability.
me, I
“I’ve kept it exactly as we left it. Sometimes I sit here and try to remember what move she was contemplating” Victoria’s finger hovered over a white pawn. “She always took her time, considered every possibility. Unlike played aggressively, impatiently. She used that against me.
The parallel to our relationship, her aggressive molding of me, my attempts to anticipate her expectations, hung unspoken between us.
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