Chapter 18 - Camille Without the Costume
Camille requested one final private conversation.
Marcello refused at first.
Rebecca advised that if he agreed, attorneys should be nearby and the conversation should not address protected cooperation details.
He agreed under those conditions.
They met in an empty sitting room at Teresa’s apartment.
Camille wore black.
No dramatic gown.
No elaborate makeup.
No false belly.
For the first time in months, she looked like the woman Marcello remembered meeting at a museum fundraiser three years earlier.
That made it worse.
“I’m pleading guilty,” she said.
“To what?”
“My lawyers are still negotiating.”
“Then don’t tell me.”
She nodded.
“I wanted to tell you why.”
Marcello almost laughed.
“You’ve had several versions.”
“This one isn’t for court.”
“That doesn’t make it true.”
“No.”
She accepted the blow.
“I grew up watching my mother get discarded.”
Marcello said nothing.
“My father left when I was nine. New wife. New family. My mother had spent fifteen years organizing her life around him and walked away with almost nothing.”
“You had your own career.”
“I had a brand consultancy dependent on rich clients. I was good at looking secure. I wasn’t secure.”
“So you chose me for money?”
“At first? Partly.”
Marcello appreciated the ugliness of the answer more than another lie.
“And later?”
“I loved you.”
“Love didn’t stop you.”
“No.”
“Then it isn’t a defense.”
“I know.”
She looked toward the window.
“When the fertility specialist told me pregnancy would be difficult, I heard my mother’s voice telling me men like you always replace women who cannot give them what they want.”
“I never said that.”
“I know.”
“Did I ever tell you I would leave if you couldn’t have children?”
“No.”
“Did I ever even know?”
“No.”
Marcello leaned forward.
“You punished me for something you were afraid I might do.”
Camille’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“And then Owen saw the fear.”
“Yes.”
“He offered you protection.”
“Yes.”
“And you liked what the protection came with.”
She looked at him.
“Money. Shares. Status.”
“Yes.”
“What about the foundation?”
She flinched.
“That was the part I kept telling myself I would repay.”
“From what?”
“My settlement after the marriage.”
Marcello laughed in disbelief.
“You planned to repay stolen charity money with money you got by defrauding me.”
“When you say it like that—”
“How else is there to say it?”
She lowered her eyes.
“No other way.”
Silence settled.
Finally Camille asked, “Did you ever really love me?”
“Yes.”
Her face broke.
Marcello continued.
“That’s why this hurts. Not because I wanted to own you. Not because I needed an heir. Because I loved the person I thought you were.”
Camille wiped tears.
“She existed.”
“Sometimes.”
That was the most mercy he could offer.
She stood.
At the door she paused.
“Lily.”
Marcello’s expression changed.
“What about her?”
“I scared her upstairs.”
He stood.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t touch her.”
“What did you do?”
“When I saw her, I told her she hadn’t seen anything and needed to go back downstairs.”
“You left that out.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she started crying.”
Marcello’s jaw tightened.
“She never told us she cried.”
“She was scared.”
A terrible thought struck him.
“Did Owen see her?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Camille hesitated.
“Camille.”
“He said children forget.”
Marcello went cold.
“And Julian?”
“He came around the corner after that.”
“Did he hear Owen?”
“I don’t know.”
Marcello opened the door.
“Leave.”
Camille nodded.
No plea.
No final declaration.
She walked out.
That evening Marcello called Elena.
He told her what Camille admitted.
Elena was silent for a long time.
Then she asked Lily gently.
“Did the pink lady scare you upstairs?”
Lily looked confused.
“She said shhh.”
“Did anyone hurt you?”
“No.”
“What did the man say?”
Lily played with her stuffed rabbit.
“Forget.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Marcello heard the change in her breathing.
“I’m sorry.”
“This is not yours to apologize for.”
“I brought those people into that building.”
“And I brought Lily to work.”
“Elena.”
“You see? We can both torture ourselves.”
He had no answer.
She continued.
“We didn’t scare her. They did.”
For once, responsibility landed exactly where it belonged.
But as Marcello prepared to end the call, Elena said something else.
“Lily says the man hid something under the stairs.”
Marcello stopped.
“What?”
“She keeps pointing at the staircase in her drawing.”
“What did he hide?”
Elena asked.
May you like
Lily answered in the background.
“Little black phone.”
