Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Victoria stopped at a heavy wooden door, unlocking; it with key from her robe pocket. Inside was a home gym. unlike any I’d ever seen, state–of–the–art equipment, mirrors covering one wall, a boxing ring taking up the
center of the room.
She flipped on lights that mimicked daylight, making; me blink at the sudden brightness. Without a word, she crossed to a cabinet and extracted hand wraps and boxing gloves
“Put these on.”
I took them, bewildered. “Victoria, it’s the middle of the night.”
“And you’re awake, drowning in self–pity instead of planning your resurrection.” Her voice wasn’t cruel, just matter–of–fact. “So put them on.”
My hands trembled as I wrapped them, clumsy from Inexperience. Victoria watched, neither helping nor criticizing, until I managed to secure the gloves.
“Hit that.” She pointed to a heavy bag hanging in the corner
I approached it uncertainly. “I’ve never boxed before.”
“I’m not teaching you to box. I’m teaching you to channel your rage.” She positioned herself behind the bag, holding it steady. “Now hit it. Hard as you can.”
Feeling foolish, I threw a weak punch. The bag barely moved.
“Again. Harder. Think of Rose’s face when she saw you at the house that day.”
I hit again, putting slightly more force behind it.
“Pathetic. Is that all the anger you have? After what she did to you?” Victoria’s voice hardened. “Think of Stefan signing those divorce papers on your anniversary. Think of your mother comforting Rose while you walked away bleeding.”
Heat bloomed in my chest, anger flickering to life. I threw another punch, then another, each one harder than the
last
“Better. Now think of them laughing in that restaurant. Toasting your destruction. Planning your replacement.” The image from my nightmare flashed before me, champagne glasses clinking, Rose wearing my ring, Stefan in the tie I’d given him. Something snapped inside me. My next punch slammed into the bag with a force that surprised even me.
“Yes!” Victoria’s approval fueled me. “Again. Think of the men who attacked you. Think of your parents choosing Ilose over you for fourteen years.”
I lost myself in the rhythm of it, fists connecting with leather again and again. Each punch carried away a piece of furt, of betrayal, of worthlessness. I hit until my arms burned and sweat soaked my nightgown, until tears mixed with perspiration on my face.
Ilut until I had nothing left.
When I finally stopped, chest heaving, Victoria released the bag and handed me a towel without comment. I wiped my face, suddenly exhausted but oddly cleaner somehow, Like I’d purged something toxic from my system.
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“This is the last time,” Victoria said, unwrapping the gloves from my hands. “The last time you break for them. The last time you cry over people who never deserved your tears.”
I met her eyes, seeing not pity but recognition. Understanding. She knew this journey because she’d walked it
herself.
“Tomorrow, we begin.” She checked her watch, a discreet Patek Philippe that probably cost more than a year’s rent at my old apartment. “In exactly four hours, you’ll meet with the lawyers to finalize the adoption papers. By noon, you’ll be legally Camille Kane. By evening, you’ll have begun your education in finance, business strategy, and social warfare.”
She tossed the gloves into a basket and turned to face me fully, silver hair gleaming under the lights.
“Tonight was necessary, Grief must be acknowledged before it can be transformed. But from sunrise onward, your are no longer their victim. You are my protégé. My heir. My laughter.”
The word ‘daughter‘ hung in the air between us, weighted with expectations and possibilities. I straightened my shoulders, Ignoring the protest from my ribs,
“What if I’m not strong enough?”
Victoria’s smile was sharp as a blade. “Strength isn’t something you’re born with. It’s something you build, one painful brick at a time. And you, Camille, have been gathering bricks for years without knowing it.”
She moved toward the door, pausing with her hand on the light switch. “Each betrayal, each disappointment, each moment they underestimated you – those are your building materials. Now we construct something magnificent from them.”
I followed her from the gym, back through silent hallways that would soon become familiar. My home. My fortress. My launching pad.
At my bedroom door, Victoria paused. For a moment, I thought she might embrace me, offer some maternal comfort after the night’s emotional storm. Instead, she simply touched my shoulder, a brief pressure that conveyed more than words could have.
“Sleep if you can,” she said. “If not, start reading the files left on your desk. The first details your sister’s recent business ventures. She’s seeking investors for a boutique clothing line, apparently.”
An investor. Rose, who’d stolen my husband, my family, my dignity, was now seeking money. The irony was almost poetic
“How long before she knows?” I asked. “That I’m alive. That I’m… yours.”
Victoria’s smile held all the warm comfort of a circling shark. “We’ll wait until you’re ready. Until you can look her in the rye and feel nothing but cold satisfaction. Until your hand doesn’t shake when you sign the denying her funding.”
I nodded, something new settling into my bones. Something hard and certain.
“Best,” Victoria said, turning away.
now is the first day of your ow
life.”
papers
I entered my room, closing the door softly behind me. The ghtmare’s grip had taded, replaced by something sharper, clearer Purpose. Direction For the first time in years, perhaps ever, I knew exactly who I needed to
Not the good sister. Not the perfect wife. Not the pleasing daughter.
Someone new. Someone dangerous.
i
Someone who would make them all regret the day they decided Camille Lewis wasn’t worth keeping.
the dayt
1 caught my reflection in the window glass, disheveled, eyes red–rimmed, but standing straight.
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