Chapter 66
Chapter 66
Camille’s point of view
I stood by the floor–to–ceiling windows in Victoria’s penthouse office, watching the city lights flicker to life as dusk settled over Manhattan. Rain tapped against the glass, a gentle percussion accompanying the victory drumming through my blood.
On six massive screens behind Victoria’s desk, Rose’s destruction played out in real–time. Every major news channel, every entertainment show, every social media feed, all consumed with the spectacular downfall of fashion’s rising star.
“More champagne?” Victoria asked, appearing at my side with the bottle of Dom Pérignon we’d opened when the first reports broke this morning. Her smile, rare and genuine, made her look younger.
“Please,” I said, holding out my crystal flute.
Victoria clinked her glass against mine. “To justice,” she said, voice warm with satisfaction. “Long overdue.” “To justice,” I echoed, turning back to the spectacle on the screens.
A reporter stood outside Rose’s apartment building, rain dampening her hair as she struggled to maintain her professional demeanor despite the obvious joy in delivering the news.
“Fashion designer Rose Lewis remained inside her penthouse apartment all day as more allegations surfaced about affairs with married men, stolen designs, and questionable financial ties to figures under investigation for money laundering, Sources close to Lewis say she is ‘devastated‘ by what her legal team is calling a “coordinated character assassination.“”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Devastated. I wonder if that’s how she described me to Stefan when they were planning my replacement.”
Victoria squeezed my shoulder. “This is only the beginning. By tomorrow, every major retailer will have canceled their orders. By next week, her investors will pull out completely. By next month, Rose Lewis will be nothing but a cautionary tale.”
The satisfaction I felt should have been pure and sweet. This was what we’d worked toward for nearly two years, the systematic destruction of the woman who had stolen my husband, my life, my identity. The woman who had orchestrated my “Attack,” leaving me for dead. This was justice, served cold and precise.
So why did victory taste so complex? Why did the champagne feel both sweet and slightly bitter?
On the renter screen, footage played of Rose leaving her building through a service entrance, head high, crimson dress a slash of defiance against the gray day. Even in her downfall, she performed the role of wronged innocent perfectly.
“Look at her,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Still playing to the cameras. Still manipulating perceptions.”
Victoria moved to her desk, pressing a button that muted the screens. “That performance won’t save her. Not this
time
I turned away from the windows, studying the woman who had rescued me, rebuilt me, guided me through the transformation from broken victim to powerful avenger.
“How did you find them all?” I asked, settling into a leather chair facing her desk. “Jonathan Hayes, Lord Hartley,
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Anton Bessonoy’s assistant.. they all disappeared from her life years ago.”
Victoria’s smile tumed almost predatory. “Money opens mamy doors, but information is the true currency of revenge. For nearly one years, I’ve had investigators tracking down everyone Hose ever used, betrayed, or discarded. Most were eager to talk once they understood they weren’t alone.”
“And the banking records? The evidence of money Laundering?”
“More challenging, but nothing is truly hidden from those who know where to look.” Victoria studied me over her glass. “You’re troubled. Why? This is what we’ve worked toward ”
I sighed, frustrated by my own complicated emotions. “I should feel only happiness seeing her suffer. Only satisfaction watching her world crumble. But there’s something else… something I can’t quite name.”
Victoria leaned forward, her expression turning serious. “Don’t confuse justice with vengeance, Camille. What we’ve done isn’t about making you feel better. It’s about balance. About consequences for actions. About ensuring Rose Lewis finally faces the truth of who she is.”
“I know,” I said, standing to pace. “But part of me expected to feel… more. Some profound sense of closure or healing.”
“Healing doesn’t come from what happens to others,” Victoria said quietly. “It comes from what happens within you, Rose’s destruction is simply the external manifestation of justice. Your healing is a separate journey.”
Her words settled over me, wisdom I hadn’t expected from a woman whose focus had always been strategic rather than emotional. Perhaps there were depths to Victoria Kane I still hadn’t fully discovered.
My phone buzzed. Alexander’s name appeared on the screen, sending an unexpected flutter through my chest. “The lioness watches her prey fall. Satisfaction or emptiness? Perhaps both. Call when you’re ready to discuss what comes after revenge.
How did he always know my mind so precisely? I slipped the phone back into my pocket without responding, not ready to examine what Alexander Pierce represented in my life,
Victoria watched me with that penetrating gaze. “Alexander?”
1 nodded, not bothering to deny it.
“He remains a complication,” she observed, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp. “A variable we didn’t account for in our planning”
“He’s not a threat to what we’ve accomplished,” I said, more defensively than intended.
Perhaps not. But his interest in you goes beyond business. He wants something from you, Camille. Something he hasn’t yet revealed.”
Victoria pressed another button, switching the largest screen to a financial news channel. The analyst was
cussing the impact of Rose’s scandal on the fashion industry, specifically how several designers‘ stock prices had jumped as retailers looked to fill the gap left by her toxic brand.
“We should consider acquiring her manufacturer in Milan, Victoria said. “With their contracts canceled, they’ll be desperate. We could get their facilities and workforce for pennies on the dollar.”
The suggestion was perfect Victoria, seeing opportunity in destruction. Yet something in me résisted.
“Let someone else have it,” I said, surprising both of us. “We’ve taken enough.”
Victoria’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s… unexpected. I thought you wanted complete dismantling of everything she built.”
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“I did. I do.” I struggled to articulate my shifting emotions. But there’s something about picking through the remains that feels… beneath us.”
A small smile played at Victoria’s lips. “Us. Not me, Us. You’ve truly become a Kane.”
The observation should have pleased me. For months, becoming Victoria Kane’s daughter had been my focus, my purpose, my new identity. Yet something about it now felt constricting, as if the perfect vengeance we’d achieved had opened space for questions I hadn’t allowed myself to ask before.
Who was 1, when not defined by revenge? What would drive me, when Rose and Stefan had been thoroughly destroyed? What filled the void when hatred no longer consumed every thought?
Victoria joined me by the windows again, her reflection appearing beside mine in the darkened glass.
“You’re evolving,” she said, her voice gentler than usual. “That’s natural. For months, every decision has been filtered through the lens of justice for what they did to you. Now that justice is being served, you’re at a crossroads.
“What comes next?” I asked, the question directed partly at her, partly at myself.
“That depends entirely on you.” Victoria turned to face me directly. “When I found you half–dead on that garage, 1 offered you a choice, disappear into a new life somewhere far away, or rise from the ashes transformed. You chose transformation. Now you face another choice.”
“Which is?”
“Whether Camille Kane exists only as an instrument of revenge, or as someone with a future beyond it.”
Her words struck deep, touching uncertainties I’d been avoiding since our plan began yielding results. Since the single–minded focus on destruction began making room for other possibilities.
“I don’t know who I am without this,” I admitted, gesturing toward the screens. “Without the goal of making them pay.”
Victoria studied me, her gaze thoughtful rather than calculating. “Perhaps that’s the next chapter of your journey. Discovering Camille Kane beyond revenge. Beyond the past Beyond even my careful molding.”
The suggestion surprised me. Victoria had always been directive, strategic, clear about who I should become. This open–ended possibility, this freedom to define myself beyond our shared purpose, was unexpected.
“You would support that?” I asked carefully. “Even if it meant choices you didn’t plan for?”
Something flickered in Victoria’s eyes, an emotion I couldn’t identify. “I saved you, Camille. Rebuilt you. Gave you the tools to achieve justice. But I never intended to own you”
She moved back to her desk, picking up a thick folder I hadn’t noticed earlier. “Which brings me to something I’ve been considering”
I followed her, curiosity momentarily displacing my existential questions. Victoria handed me the folder, its weight substantial.
“What is this?”
“Open it,” she said simply,
Inside were legal documents. I flipped through them, understanding dawning slowly.
“You’re giving me controlling interest in Kane Industries‘ Tech division,” I said, looking up in shock. “Thirty percent ownership. Board chairmanship. Final approval on all acquisitions.”
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Victoria nodded. “Consider it your graduation present. You’ve learned everything I can teach you about business, strategy, and power. Now it’s time for you to build something of your own.”
I stared at the documents, their implications staggering. This wasn’t just a gift, it was independence. Authority Identity beyond being Victoria Kane’s creation or Rose Lewis’s destruction.
“Why now?
“Because revenge is ending,” Victoria said simply. “And your life needs to be beginning. Rose Lewis built her career stealing from others. I want you to build yours creating, something uniquely yours.”
Emotion tightened my throat, unexpected gratitude mixing with something like awe. For all her calculated coldness, Victoria Kane had given me more than tools for revenge. She had given me a future.
“Thank you,” I said, the words inadequate for the gift she was offering.
Victoria waved away my gratitude. “Don’t thank me. Show me what you’ll build. Show me who Camille Kane becomes when not defined by her past.”
My phone buzzed again. Another message from Alexander: Dinner tomorrow? Something to celebrate your victory, and perhaps discuss what comes after.*
This time, I found myself smiling as I typed: “Yes. 8pm. You choose the place.*
Victoria noticed, of course. “Alexander Pierce represents a choice too,” she observed. “One I hope you’ll make with your eyes fully open.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he has his own agenda, as everyone does. Including me.” Victoria’s honesty was refreshing and slightly alarming. “Just be certain you understand what you’re choosing before you choose it.”
On the screens, a new headline scrolled: “DESIGNER ROSE LEWIS: FORMER EMPLOYEES ALLEGE TOXIC WORKPLACE ENVIRONMENT.” The destruction continued its inexorable march, gathering momentum without requiring our further intervention
“I believe I’ll understand my choices better now,” I said, looking at the documents in my hands. “Now that I have something to look forward to, not just something to avenge”
Victoria raised her champagne glass. “To the future, then. And to the woman you’re becoming
“To the future,” I echoed, clinking my glass against hers.
As night settled over Manhattan, the city lights blazed against the darkness. I studied my reflection in the window, Camille Kane looking back at me, Victoria’s creation but increasingly my own as well. The surgical alterations, the careful training, the strategic positioning had transformed me physically and socially. But something else was happening now, something neither Victoria nor I had fully anticipated.
I was transforming internally too. Becoming someone neither Camille Lewis nor Victoria’s carefully crafted heir, but someone new. Someone undefined by either past trauma or present revenge.
My phone buzzed one final time. Alexander again: *Looking forward to tomorrow. The phoenix rises not just from asties, but toward something greater.*
For the first time since the Rose’s men had nearly claimed my life, I found myself genuinely curious about what that “something greater” might be.
