Chapter 14

Camille's point of view

Victoria watched with unreadable eyes as Dr. Torres led me to the large bathroom. A white cloth covered the full-length mirror. The doctor positioned me carefully, standing slightly behind my right shoulder.

"Remember," she said gently, "what you seetoday is still healing. There's swelling, bruising. The final results won't be visible for weeks. But you'll get a first impression of your new appearance."

With that, she pulled away the cloth.

I gasped.

The woman in the mirror was me, but not me. My face but enhanced in ways that transformed my entire appearance. My cheekbones cast elegant shadows beneath them, giving my face a sculpted quality it had never possessed before. My jawline looked stronger, more defined. My brows arched slightly higher, making my eyes appear larger, more commanding.

Even through residual swelling and faint bruising, I could see the changes Dr. Torres had created. Subtle individually, powerful collectively. My lips had a new definition, not obviously augmented but somehow more present. My nose, always slightly crooked from a childhood fall, now had a perfect straight bridge.

I raised a hand to my face, watching my reflection do the same. The stranger in the mirror touched her cheek wit trembling fingers.

"What do you think?" Dr. Torres asked quietly.

Words failed me. This new face looked... strong. Confident. The kind of face that belonged on magazine covers or in boardrooms. The kind of face people remembered.

"It's..." I swallowNed hard. "I hardly recognize myself."

"That's partly the swelling," Dr. Torres assured me. "And partly the shock of change. Your brain needs time to adjust to the new image. In a few weeks, this will feel like you. The real you."

But which me was real? The woman I'd been before, or this new creation designed for power?

Victoria stepped forward, studying my reflection with critical eyes. Then, something rare happened, she smiled.A genuine expression of approval that transformed her usually stern face.

"Perfect," she said simply. "Exactly what we needed."

Something warm bloomed in my chest at her approval, a feeling I immediately tried to suppress. I shouldn't crave her validation this way, Shouldn't feel this rush of pleasure at her acceptance. Yet I did.

Dr. Torres detailed the continuing care routine, medications, specialized skincare, follow-up appointments.I listened with half an ear, still captivated by the stranger in the mirror who now wore my expressions.

Later, after Victoria and Dr. Torres had gone, I sat alone in the recovery suite, lights dimmed as evening fell.Every few minutes, I found myself reaching for the small hand mirror beside my bed, checking to see if the face I'd seen earlier was still there. Still mine.

Each time, those new eyes looked back at me, harder, sharper, more penetrating than the eyes I'd known all my life. Eyes that no longer pleaded for love or acceptance. Eyes that demanded respect.

As night deepened, exhaustion finally pulled me toward sleep. But as consciousness faded,images began forming in the darkness behind my eyelids. Dreams taking shape, vivid and disturbing.

I stood on a bridge, rain pouring down around me. Below, dark water churned angrily. Across from me stood Rose,her perfect face contorted with fear. Between us, a broken railing gaped like an open mouth.

"Please," Rose begged, backing away from me. "Camille, please, it wasn't supposed to happen like this!"

In the dream, I moved toward her, my new face reflected in her terrified eyes. She kept retreating until her back hit the damaged railing. It creaked ominously.

"You took everything from me,"dream-me said, voice cold as the rain drenching us both. "MMy husband.My family.My life."

"I'm sorry!" Rose cried, genuine terror in her voice as the railing began giving way behind her. "P'll fix it! I'll make it right!"

But it was too late. The railing snapped. Rose screamed as she fell backward, hands grasping empty air.I watched her plummet toward the dark water below, her scream cutting off as she hit the surface and disappeared beneath the churning waves.

I should have felt horror. Should have rushed to the edge, called for help, tried to save her. Instead, dream-me smiled, satisfied, as Rose's hands broke the surface once, twice, then disappeared for good.

I woke with a gasp, heart racing, sheets tangled around my legs. The dream had felt so real, the rain on my skin, the sound of the railing breaking, Rose's scream as she fell. But what disturbed me most wasn't the dream itself.

It was how I felt about it.

I hadn't wanted to save my sister. I had wanted to watch her drown.⑪

The realization sent me stumbling to the bathroom, where I splashed cold water on my face, my new face,before looking up at my reflection in the mirror. In the harsh bathroom light, with water dripping from my chin, I barely recognized myself anymore.

Not just because of the surgical changes, the swelling, the bruises fading to yellow. Something in my eyes had changed too. Something harder, colder. Something that had watched Rose drown in my dream and felt nothing but satisfaction.

I backed away from the mirror, suddenly afraid of what I saw there. Not the physical changes, but the transformation happening inside. Was this who I was becoming? Someone who could dream of her own sister's death and feel pleasure rather than horror?

Sleep eluded me for the rest of the night. I sat by the window, watching city lights glitter inthe darkness,trying to untangle the knot of emotions inside me. By dawn, I'd reached no conclusions, just a dull acceptance that something fundamental was shifting within me. Something that might be necessary for what lay ahead, but frightening nonetheless.

Two more days passed in the recovery suite before Victoria declared it time to return to the mansion. The bruising had faded enough to be covered by makeup, the swelling reduced to subtle puffiness only I would notice.

As James drove us back, Victoria reviewed upcoming appointments on her tablet. "The board wants to officially announce you as my heir at next quarter's shareholders meeting. We'll need professional portraits before then. Dr. Torres suggests another three weeks before scheduling the photo session."

I nodded, only half-listening, still caught in thoughts of my disturbing dream.

"Your silence suggests either disinterest or distraction," Victoria observed, setting aside her tablet. "WVhich is it?"

I turned from the window to face her. "I had a dream about Rose. About watching her drown and... enjoying it."

I expected judgment, perhaps even concern about my psychological state. Instead, Victoria's expression remained neutral, assessing.

"And this troubles you?"

"Shouldn't it?" | asked. "She's still my sister."

"Is she?" Victoria's question hung in the air between us. "The woman who orchestrated your husband's betrayal? Who manipulated your parents against you for years? Who celebrated while the world thought you dead? Does sharing blood with such a person obligate you to forgiveness?"①

Put that way, it sounded rational, even obvious. But something still twisted uncomfortably in my stomach.

"It's not about forgiveness," I said slowly. "It's about who I'm becoming. The person in that dream, the one who smiled while watching her sister drown, I didn't recognize her."

Victoria studied me for a long moment before responding. "Transformation isn't just physical, Camille. Your face changes, yes, but so does your heart. Your mind. Your soul, if you believe in such things."

She gestured to my altered features. "What Dr. Torres did was merely the external manifestation of an internal process already underway. The woman who can dismantle Rose's world cannot be the same woman Rose once destroyed."

The car pulled into the mansion's driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Victoria gathered her things,preparing to exit, but paused before opening her door.

"Your dream doesn't show corruptioshe said, her voice unexpectedly gentle. "It shows preparation. Your mind is readying itself for what your heart still resists."

With that, she stepped from the car,leaving me to follow when ready.

That night, in my suite at the mansion, I stood before the full-length mirror in my bathroom, lights bright enough to hide nothing. Unwrapped the soft bandage Dr. Torres had applied for sleeping. Studied every changed angle of my face with critical eyes.

The woman looking back at me seemed both familiar and foreign. I recognized the core of my features,the basic blueprint remained. But the enhancements had transformed me into someone who commanded attention rather than blended into backgrounds.Someone who looked like she belonged in Victoria's world of power and privilege.

I remembered Rose at my wedding, standing beside me in photos, somehow always managing to outshine the bride. Her subtle positioning to catch the best light, her practiced smile that photographers always loved. She'd spent a lifetime learning how to be seen, how to be the center of every frame.

Now I would learn the same. But for a different purpose.

Turning away from the mirror, I moved to my desk where files awaited review, Rose's growing fashion business, Stefan's latest projects, my parents' social calendar. Information gathered by Victoria's team,delivered daily to keep me informed of the lives continuing without me.

Rose's designs were good, better than I'd expected. She had genuine talent beneath the manipulative exterior. Her business plan showed surprising acumen. The investor meetings lined up for the coming months represented real opportunity for growth.

All of which would make it more satisfying when I eventually controlled whether she succeeded or failed.

The thought should have disturbed me. A month ago, it would have. Now, it felt like stepping into a role I was born to play.

I closed the files and returned to the mirror, studying my new face one more time. In the dream, Rose had looked into these eyes and seen something that terrified her. Soon, that dream would become reality.

"We're not erasing you," Dr. Torres had said. "We're amplifying your power."

She was right. The face looking back at me now wasn't a disguise. It was a revelation. The woman I might have become naturally, if life hadn't beaten me down for so many years. If Rose hadn't systematically undermined my confidence. If Stefan hadn't betrayed me. If my parents hadn't always preferred their adopted daughter.