Chapter 185
+25 BONUS
Alexander’s throat tightened. The genuine love in Victoria’s voice for Camille and seemingly for him made his anger more confusing, not less. How could the same woman who had shown such calculated cruelty to his uncle look at them with such warmth?
“Thank you,” he managed, “for everything.”
Victoria smiled, misreading his tension as emotion. “No need for thanks between family.”
Family. The word echoed in his head as they said final goodbyes, as they walked outside to where the chauffeur waited with their car, as Camille waved one last time to Victoria standing in the doorway.
The car pulled away, tires crunching on gravel. Camille nestled against his side, her head on his shoulder.
“Can you believe it?” she murmured sleepily. “We’re actually married.”
Alexander slid his arm around her, drawing her closer. “It still feels like a dream.”
“A good one, I hope.” Her voice was already fading as exhaustion claimed her.
“The best,” he whispered, kissing her forehead.
As Camille drifted to sleep against him, Alexander stared out the window at the passing city lights. In his pocket, the lily pressed against his ribs, its presence a constant reminder. In his mind, the image of his uncle’s face floated alongside Victoria’s smile as she’d blessed their union.
–
one of forgiveness and new beginnings, the other of justice long denied. He Two diverging paths stretched before him couldn’t see where either led, couldn’t tell which one his uncle would want him to take.
The car turned onto the highway toward the airport. Beside him, Camille made a small sound in her sleep, her hand finding his even in unconsciousness. Alexander laced his fingers through hers feeling the new weight of her wedding band, wondering if she would still want to wear it if she knew the truth.
Dawn broke on the horizon as they approached the airport, painting the sky in streaks of gold and rose. A new day. A new life. A new name for Camille.
Yet some things remained unchanged in the growing light – the lily in his pocket, the photograph in his wallet, and the promise he’d whispered to a ghost in a moonlit room.
Sleep wouldn’t come for Alexander. Not yet. Perhaps not for a long while.
