Chapter 84
Chapter 84
Rain pounded against the windows of Kane Industries as Camille reviewed the quarterly reports for the Phoenix Grid project. The soft glow of her desk lamp created a bubble of light in the darkening office. Most employees had gone home hours ago, but Camille found comfort in the solitude of these late hours. Here, in the quiet, she could focus on creation rather than
destruction.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Alexander: *Still working? The world won’t change in a single night.*
A smile tugged at her lips. She typed back: *Says the man who probably hasn’t left his lab yet.*
Three dots appeared, then: *Guilty. Dinner tomorrow?*
Before she could respond, a sharp knock echoed through her office. Camille glanced up, expecting her assistant with the financial projections she’d requested.
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Instead, Rose stood in the doorway.
Time seemed to slow as their eyes locked. Rose looked different–thinner, harder. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Her designer clothes had been replaced by a plain black sweater and jeans. But the hatred blazing in her gaze remained unchanged.
“Security didn’t mention you were coming,” Camille said, her voice steady despite the sudden hammering of her heart.
Rose’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Money still opens doors, sister dear. Even when most of it’s gone.”
She stepped into the office uninvited, her movements jerky with barely contained rage. Rain dripped from her coat onto the polished floor. The door swung shut behind her with a soft click that sounded unnervingly final.
“What do you want, Rose?” Camille asked, rising from her chair. She wouldn’t give Rose the advantage of looking down at her.
“What do I want?” Rose laughed, the sound brittle and sharp as breaking glass. “That’s rich coming from you. I want back everything you stole from me.”
“I didn’t steal anything from you. I took back what was mine.”
Rose’s face contorted. “Nothing was ever yours! You were just holding it for me until I was ready to take it.”
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The raw honesty of the statement hung between them. No more pretense, no more masks. Just the ugly truth that had always lurked beneath their relationship.
“So you admit it,” Camille said quietly. “You never saw me as your sister. Just someone whose life you could steal when it suited you.”
“You had everything handed to you,” Rose spat, taking another step forward. “The perfect parents. The perfect house. The perfect life. I had to claw my way out of the foster system, waiting for someone…. anyone….. to want me. And then I saw your family with their big house and their perfect daughter. I made them choose me. I made them love me more.”
Rain lashed against the windows, punctuating her words with angry bursts.
“And it was so easy,” Rose continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “So pathetically easy to make them see you as less. To make them question you. To make them choose me over and over again.”
Camille absorbed the cruelty of these words, feeling them strike against an old wound that had finally begun to heal. The old Camille would have crumbled, would have begged for understanding. But that woman was gone.
“Did you come here just to tell me what I already know?” Camille asked, keeping her voice level. “Or did you have something else in mind?”
Rose’s hand slipped into her pocket. “I came to promise you something.”
The movement set off alarms in Camille’s mind. She tensed, ready to call security or defend herself if necessary.
But Rose didn’t pull out a weapon. Instead, she withdrew a small silver object and placed it on the desk between them. A worn photograph of Camille’s childhood bedroom, torn in half.
“Remember this place?” Rose asked, her voice eerily calm.
Camille didn’t touch it. The photo brought back unwanted memories, the room she’d decorated with such care, the space that had been hers before Rose had gradually taken it over with her opinions and presence.
“You’ve kept that all this time?” Camille asked, keeping her expression neutral.
Rose’s smile widened. “I keep all my trophies. And now I’ve come to tell you….. you haven’t
won. You’ve just started a war that I intend to finish.”
“Is that what this is? A threat?” Camille asked.
“Is that what this is? A threat?”
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“A promise,” Rose corrected, leaning forward with her palms flat on the desk. “You took everything from me, Camille. My reputation. My business. Stefan.” She spat his name like a curse. “You even took our parents. All because you couldn’t handle that he chose me over you.”
Camille shook her head, refusing to be baited. “You tried to have me killed, Rose.”
“A mistake,” Rose said dismissively. “I only wanted to scare you into leaving. Those idiots
went too far.”
“And you’re making another mistake now.
Rose straightened, studying Camille with narrowed eyes. “You think you’ve won. That’s your mistake. You’ve taken everything that mattered to me, so now I have nothing left to lose.” She tapped the Preston pin. “But you? You’ve built a whole new life. New mother. New company. New boyfriend.” Her lips curved into a cruel smile. “So many new things to take from you.”
The threat hung in the air between them, raw and vicious. For a moment, Camille felt the old fear stirring, the helpless panic of being outmaneuvered by Rose once again. But she pushed it aside, refusing to give it power.
“I’m not that woman anymore, Rose,” Camille said quietly. “The one who trusted you. The one who believed your lies. The one who could be manipulated and used. I buried her.”
“And rose from the ashes as Camille Kane,” Rose mocked. “How poetic. But you’re still the same underneath. Still desperate to be loved. Still afraid of being alone. I’ve always seen right through you, sister. Always will.”
Camille walked around the desk, closing the distance between them. Rose instinctively stepped back, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face.
“You never saw me at all,” Camille said. “That was your mistake. You were so busy planning how to use me that you never bothered to know me. If you had, you’d realize that threatening me now is pointless.”
“Is it?” Rose challenged, though her voice had lost some of its edge.
“I’ve already faced the worst you could do to me,” Camille said. “You took my husband, my family, and tried to take my life. I rebuilt everything from nothing. What could you possibly do that would frighten me now?”
A flash of something, frustration, maybe even a hint of respect crossed Rose’s face before hardening again into hate.
“You’ll find out,” she promised. “When everything you’ve built comes crashing down around you, when everyone you care about turns away, when you’re left with nothing but ashes, then you’ll understand what you’ve done.”
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“Is that what this is about for you?” Camille asked, genuine curiosity in her voice. “Making me understand?”
“It’s about justice,” Rose snapped.
“Justice,” Camille repeated, letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You tried to murder me, Rose. After systematically destroying every relationship in my life. What exactly do you think you deserve justice for?”
Rose’s face flushed with angry color. “For being exposed. For being humiliated. For having everything taken from me.”
“Everything you took from me first,” Camille pointed out.
“It wasn’t yours to begin with!” Rose shouted, her composure finally cracking. “None of it was! Not Stefan, not our parents‘ love, not your perfect life! You were just a placeholder until I came along!”
The raw pain in her voice caught Camille off guard. Beneath the rage and threats lay a well of hurt so deep it seemed bottomless, the wounded child from the foster system who believed she had to steal love because she’d never receive it freely.
For a brief moment, Camille felt something dangerously close to pity. Then she remembered the men in the parking garage. The flash of their knives. The darkness closing in as she bled onto the concrete.
“Get out, Rose,” she said softly. “Go back to Hell hole and plot whatever revenge you think will heal you. But know this–I’m not afraid of you anymore. Neither is Victoria. And if you come after either of us, you’ll find we’re much harder to destroy than you think.”
Rose stared at her, chest heaving with emotion. For a second, Camille thought she might lunge forward, might try to harm her physically. Instead, she snatched the torn photo from the desk and backed toward the door.
“This isn’t over,” Rose said, her voice tight with fury. “Not by a long shot. I’m going to take everything from you, Camille. Your company. Your new mother. Your boyfriend. I’ll make watch as I tear it all down piece by piece.”
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“You already tried to kill me once,” Camille reminded her with a calmness she didn’t entirely feel. “What makes you think a second attempt will
go any better?”
Rose’s hand gripped the doorknob. “Because this time, I won’t make the mistake of thinking your death is enough. This time, I want you alive to see it all burn.”
With those words, she yanked open the door and disappeared into the hallway, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of rain and the echo of her footsteps.
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Chapter 84
Camille sank into her chair, the confrontation replaying in her mind. She should call security, make sure Rose had actually left the building. She should call Victoria, warn her about Rose’s unexpected visit and clear threats. She should do a dozen practical, sensible things.
Instead, she found herself staring at the empty space where Rose had stood, struck by the realization that despite all the pain and destruction between them, she felt nothing but emptiness when looking at her sister. No hate. No fear. Not even satisfaction at seeing Rose’s downfall.
Just a hollow recognition that they were both products of the same broken system, Rose fighting to take what she believed she deserved, Camille fighting to protect what was hers. Two sides of the same tarnished coin.
Her phone buzzed again. Alexander: *No response? Did you fall asleep at your desk again?*
Camille looked at the message, thinking of connections formed through kindness rather than pain. Of futures built on creation rather than destruction. Of the person she was becoming rather than the one she’d been forced to be.
Rose’s threat lingered in the air, ominous and heavy with promise. But for the first time since this began, Camille felt certain that whatever storm was coming, she wouldn’t face it alone.
She typed back to Alexander: *Wide awake. And yes to dinner tomorrow. We have something important to discuss.*
Then she picked up her office phone and dialed Victoria’s private line. As the phone rang, Camille gazed out at the rain–lashed city below, the lights blurring like scattered stars.
The battle with Rose wasn’t over. Perhaps it never would be. But Camille no longer needed it to be over to move forward.
She had rebuilt her life once from ashes. If necessary, she could do it again.
But this time, she wouldn’t be fighting alone.
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