Camille’s point of view
Victoria’s gaze sharpened. “Yes. Every lesson, every challenge, every seemingly excessive demand, they all serve that purpose. To make you stronger than Sophia was. More prepared for the dangers wealth and power attract.” “And to make me capable of the revenge you’ve planned.”
“That too,” she acknowledged. “The people who hurt you must pay for what they’ve done. But beyond revenge lies something more important, your future. What you’ll build after justice is served.”
I considered her words, understanding for the first time that Victoria’s vision extended beyond my usefulness as an instrument of revenge. She was investing in me for reasons beyond my resemblance to Sophia or my vendetta against Rose.
“I still shouldn’t have come in here without permission,” said after a moment. “This space is sacred to you. I violated that.”
Victoria sighed, tension visibly leaving her shoulders. “Perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps it was even necessary.” She turned fully toward me. “You cannot become who you need to be while seeing me as merely a mentor or benefactor. You need to understand who I am beneath the power and wealth.”
“A mother who lost her child,” I said softly.
“Yes.” The simple acknowledgment carried volumes of pain. “A woman who built an empire, then watched it become meaningless in an instant when her daughter’s heart stopped beating.”
She stepped into Sophia’s room, beckoning me to follow. This time the invitation was deliberate, conscious. She moved to the closet, sliding open the door to reveal clothing still hanging neatly, designer dresses, casual wear, university sweatshirts.
“She was taller than you,” Victoria observed. “More athletic build. Preferred blues and greens to the warm tone that suit your coloring.”
From a high shelf, she removed a small wooden box inlaid with mother–of–pearl. “Sophia’s jewelry. Things she cherished, mostly for sentimental rather than monetary value.”
She opened the box, revealing an eclectic collection, some fine pieces but also quirky earrings, friendship bracelets, the kind of personal treasures that told a life’s story.
Victoria selected something from the box, a delicate silver bracelet with a single charm, a tiny chess piece. A knight.
“Her favorite piece,” Victoria explained. “She said knights were the most interesting because they move differently than everything else on the board. Unconventional. Less direct but sometimes more effective.”
She held out the bracelet to me. “She would want you to have this.”
The gesture stunned me, Victoria offering something that had belonged to Sophia, inviting me to carry a piece of her daughter’s memory.
“I couldn’t possibly.”
“You can,” Victoria interrupted firmly. “And you will. Not because you’re replacing her, no one could. But because you’re continuing something she valued, the courage to make in unexpected ways across the board.”
+25 BONUS
Victoria stopped walking, turning to face me fully in the grand hallway. Afternoon sun streamed through tall windows, highlighting the silver in her hair, the fine lines around her eyes, signs of humanity often obscured by her powerful presence.
“What I see,” she said carefully, “is someone finding her own path while carrying meaningful symbols from those who came before. Not a replacement for my daughter. Not merely a vehicle for revenge. But a young woman becoming something unique, something powerful, something entirely her own.”
She touched the phoenix pendant at my throat lightly, then the knight charm on my wrist. “These are reminders, not definitions. You’ll forge your own symbols in time.”
As we continued walking, side by side through the mansion that had become my home, I felt a subtle but significant change in our relationship. For the first time, Victoria had allowed me to see beyond her carefully constructed facade to the wounded heart beneath. For the first time, I understood that her demanding nature came not just from perfectionism but from fear, fear of failing to protect another young woman under her care.
And for the first time, I wondered if revenge alone would satisfy either of us. If perhaps something more complex, more healing might lie beyond the destruction we’d planned for those who had wounded us.
