Chapter 29

CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW

The engagement party filled the screen before me, bright lights and beautiful people swirling in celebration.I sat motionless in Victoria's guest suite, hands folded in my lap, breathing measured despite the storm in my chest. Three cameras captured the event from different angles, ensuring not a single moment of joy would go undocumented.

Joy for them. Torture for me.

The Rodriguez family estate had been transformed into a fairytale setting, white roseseverywhere,crysta chandeliers hanging from pavilions, string quartet playing softly. Two hundred guests in designer formal wear,champagne flowing freely, laughter rising into the night air.

And at the center of it all, Rose and Stefan. My sister and my ex-husband.

"The engagement of the year," the entertainment reporter gushed. "Stefan Rodriguez, heir to the Rodriguez shipping fortune, and renowned fashion designer Rose Lewis have finally made their relationship official after a respectful period following the tragic death of Stefan's first wife-Rose's sister Camille."②

A "respectful period." Nine months. That's all it took for my existence to become a footnote in their love story.

The camera cut to my mother, diamonds glittering at her throat. "Of course we're thrilled," she said, voice slightly too bright. "Rose and Stefan have always had a special connection. While we continue to mourn Camille,we know she would want them to find happiness."

Would I? Would I want them to find happiness together? To build their life on the foundation of my destruction?

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I wiped it away quickly, angry at this weakness. Eleven months of transformation. Eleven months of becoming someone new. Someone stronger.

The door opened slertly. Victoria Froved to stand beside my char, her attention fixing on the television where Rose was riow tossing her bouquet.

"You requested the broadcast,"Victoria sard, her voice rieutral

" needed to see it," I teplied, steadier than expected. "To understand what P'm fighting for,"

Victoria studied me, missing nothing, not the dried tears, not the tension in my shoulders. "And what did you discover?"

"That I've been fighting the wrong battle,"|said softly.been preparing to take back what they stole from me. My husband. My family. My life."

I turned to face her fully, something shifting inside me like tectonic plates rearranging. "But that life was.never worth fighting for. Stefan never loved me, not really. My parents never saw me, not clearly. Rose never considered me her sister, only an obstacle."

I moved to the window overlooking Manhattan's glittering expanse. A view fitting for who I was becoming.Not Camille Lewis, forgotten daughter and discarded wife. But Camille Kane,heir to an empire, architect of vengeance.

"For eleven months, I've been training to reclaim what I lost,"Icontinued. "But what I lost wasn't worth having."

"Then what are you fighting for?" Victoria asked.

"Justice," I said, the word tasting new on my tongue. Not revenge, something hotter, more primal. But justice, cold, measured, inexorable."I'm fighting to show them exactly who they are. To make them face the truth they've spent a lifetime avoiding."

"And what truth is that?"

"That Rose isn't the golden child they think she is. That Stefan isn't the honorable man he pretends to be.That my parents chose wrongly when they favored her over me." My words emerged with quiet certainty.

"They built thelr happiness on lies. Justice is showing them their foundation is sand."

Victoria moved to the desk, opening folders, dossiers on Rose's fashion business, Stefan's role in his family company, my parents' social connections. Eleven months of intelligence gathering, creating a map of vulnerabilities.

"The acquisition of TechVault goes public tomorrow," Victoria said. "Your redemptionin the business world.Then we begin the systematic dismantling of their world. Not with a frontal assault, but with precision strikes they won't recognize as attacks until it's too late."

She outlined the plan. Acquiring Rose's main fabric supplier through shell companies. Creating subtle quality issues. Financial pressure through carefully manipulated loan terms. Contract interference with Rodriguez Shipping.

Not revenge in the conventional sense. Not public humiliation or dramatic confrontation. But something far more devastating, the slow, inexorable erosion of everything they'd built.

"When do we begin?" |I asked, a strange calm settling over me.

"The TechVault announcement goes live at9 AM tomorrow. Your interview with Fortune runs thefollowing day. By week's end, the business world will be discussing Camille Kane, not Rose Lewis and Stefan Rodriguez's engagement."

Victoria poured two glasses of scotch, "And next week, we close on Bertolucci Textiles. The first domino falls."

On screen, Rose threw her bouquet, laughing as eager women reached for it. She aimed directly at the camera,her expression triumphant.

"Are you ready to begin?" Victoria asked quietly.

I turned from the screen, something dangerous awakening in my eyes. "Burn it all down."

Victoria touched her glass to mine. "Not burn," she corrected. "Burning is chaotic, emotional, easily traced.What we're about to do is surgical. Precise. Untraceable."

"Dismantle It all," 1 amended.

"Plece by piece,"she agreed."Until nothing remains but the fruth."

Later, 1 stood before my mirroT, studying the woman l'd become. The physical changes from Dr. Torres's work, sharper cheekbones, refined features. But the most profound changes were in my eyes, steady,focused, unafrald. The posture that no longer apologized for existing.

Rose wouldn't recognize me if we passed on the street. Stefan would see a stranger in an elevator. My own parents would look right through me.

Which made the justice to come perfect. I would move among them unrecognized. Would dismantle their world piece by piece without them suspecting the architect of their downfall.

On my desk lay a smail velvet box that hadn't been there earlier. Inside, platinum phoenix earrings with diamond eyes, matching Victoria's earlier gift.

The card read simply: "For tomorrow's rebirth. - V"

I touched the earrings gently, understanding the symbolism. Tomorrow marked not just a business success but my emergence from the ashes. My introduction to the world that had forgotten Camille Lewis, the world about to meet Camille Kane.

Let them celebrate tonight, I thought. Let them bask in their triumph, their perfect love story,their bright future together.

Tomorrow belonged to me. And all the tomorrows after that.

What awaited them was far worse than fire. It was the precise, methodical deconstruction of everything they belleved secure. The surgical removal of every support structure. The clean, untraceable dismantling of their perfect world.

Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not all at once in a satisfying explosion of vengeance.

But inevitably. Inexorably. Piece by carefully extracted piece.

Until nothing remained but truth.