Chapter 8 - THE DAUGHTER WHO FINALLY SAW HER MOTHER
We did not storm the facility.
That was the old Roman’s solution.
The new one involved law enforcement, warrants, and waiting twelve unbearable minutes in a parking garage.
Camille entered alone.
Patrick arrived seven minutes later.
Arthur arrived three minutes after that.
All three inside.
Perfect.
Authorities moved.
I remained outside because my presence could turn a legal operation into a family war.
I hated that too.
Then Camille called me.
I answered.
“Roman.”
She sounded terrified.
“Where are you?”
“Outside.”
Silence.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“My mother is alive.”
“Yes.”
“She’s alive.”
Her voice broke.
For the first time, Camille sounded like a daughter.
Not a political weapon.
Not the woman who hurt my children.
A daughter.
Then she said:
“My father told me she killed herself.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
Camille began crying.
“Roman, I didn’t know the guardianship was about killing you.”
I believed that part.
Not everything.
“What did you think it was?”
“Insurance.”
“For what?”
“For Patrick.”
She swallowed.
“He told me you would eventually break the engagement.”
“So you tortured my children to make them depend on you?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
I stayed silent.
Camille corrected herself.
“Yes.”
That mattered.
“I thought if they feared you, they would choose me.”
My jaw clenched.
“You hit my son.”
“I know.”
“You told my daughter her mother died because weak women break men.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get forgiveness because your father controlled you.”
“I know.”
For once, she sounded honest.
Then her voice dropped.
“He’s here.”
“Police are coming.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Arthur saw them.”
A crash sounded.
Camille screamed.
The call dropped.
Everything inside me wanted to run in.
Naomi grabbed my sleeve.
“Wait for the signal.”
“I’m done waiting.”
“If you go now and Patrick dies, your children lose the truth.”
That stopped me.
Again.
Thirty seconds later, officers entered.
Patrick tried to escape through a service stairwell.
Arthur locked himself in a medical records office.
Camille remained with Evelyn.
Nobody died.
Patrick and Arthur were arrested.
Camille was not.
Not yet.
She gave a complete statement.
Then requested something I did not expect.
She asked to speak to Jack and Rosie.
I said no.
Immediately.
Maya agreed.
Not now.
Maybe never.
That choice belonged partly to the children when they were ready.
Camille accepted it.
Before leaving, she gave Naomi a key.
“What is this?”
“Arthur’s private archive.”
My attention sharpened.
“He keeps copies of everything.”
“Where?”
Camille looked at me.
“Inside Moretti headquarters.”
My own building.
My attorney had hidden an archive beneath my company for years.
Then Camille said:
“And Roman?”
“What?”
“Arthur has Isabella’s original toxicology sample.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
“Because she wasn’t sedated with random medication.”
May you like
Camille swallowed.
“She was poisoned with something only your family had access to.”
