Chapter 6 - THE FIANCÉE WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
“Don't tell me Camille hit my sister,” Rachel whispered. “Not unless you can prove it.”
Alessandro looked at the blurred reflection on Marco's tablet.
The blonde woman behind the windshield resembled Camille Whitmore.
But resemblance wasn't proof.
And Rachel had already suffered enough from accusations made without evidence.
“You're right,” Alessandro said. “We need more than a photograph.”
Rachel folded Sophie's childhood drawing and placed it carefully inside her handbag.
“Then let's get more.”
Marco examined the old vehicle registration.
“The sedan was assigned to Vincent's office. Camille had permission to drive it while she worked at Bellamy Heritage Management.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Who else?”
“Vincent, two office employees, and Arthur's personal driver.”
Rachel stared at the names.
“My sister said she never saw the driver clearly.”
“Did she remember anything else?” Alessandro asked.
“Only that someone had been waiting near the entrance. She thought the car was pulling into a parking space.”
Rachel paused.
“Then it accelerated.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“She remembers a woman getting out,” Rachel continued. “But she couldn't remember her face afterward. The doctors said that could happen after a traumatic injury.”
Marco looked at the photograph again.
“If Vincent had video, we need that canister.”
“And if he destroyed it?” Rachel asked.
“We'll find other records,” Alessandro answered.
His calm surprised her.
She had expected threats, shouting, perhaps a dozen armed men racing through Philadelphia.
Instead, he seemed determined to avoid another terrible mistake.
Rachel wondered whether losing Elena had taught him something his father never learned.
Power could frighten people into silence.
It couldn't make their words true.
Camille was waiting in the estate's breakfast room when they returned.
She wore a pale blue silk dress and a diamond bracelet.
A silver tray beside her held untouched coffee and fresh strawberries.
When she saw Alessandro, she smiled.
“Darling, where have you been? I've been worried sick.”
Alessandro placed the photograph on the table.
Camille's smile faded.
“Do you recognize that car?”
She glanced at it.
“Should I?”
“You drove it when you worked for Arthur Bellamy.”
“That was years ago.”
“Two years.”
Camille crossed her arms.
“Why are you interrogating me before breakfast?”
Rachel stepped forward.
“Because my sister was hit by that car.”
Camille's eyes moved toward her.
For a moment, something flickered across her face.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Then it disappeared.
“That's ridiculous.”
“Which part?” Rachel asked.
“That I had anything to do with your sister's accident.”
Rachel stared at her.
“I didn't say you did.”
Camille went quiet.
Alessandro pulled out a chair.
“Sit down.”
“Don't order me around like one of your employees.”
“Then answer me like the woman I planned to marry.”
Camille looked at the photograph again.
Finally, she sat.
“Yes. I drove the car sometimes.”
“Were you at the rehabilitation center on the day Sophie Bennett was injured?”
Camille pressed her lips together.
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
Marco placed a printed record beside the photograph.
“The vehicle entered the center's parking garage that afternoon using a Bellamy employee access card.”
Camille glanced at it.
“People borrowed those cards.”
“Did you lend yours to anyone?” Alessandro asked.
“I don't remember.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“My sister has spent two years learning how to walk again. You threatened to take away the money paying for her therapy. Don't tell me you don't remember.”
Camille's expression hardened.
“You know nothing about my life.”
“Then tell me.”
Camille looked away.
Alessandro noticed her fingers twisting the diamond bracelet.
It was the same bracelet she had supposedly lost while searching Rachel's room.
“Why did you search Rachel's belongings?” he asked.
Camille gave a bitter laugh.
“Oh, now we're going back to that?”
“Answer.”
“I was looking for a key.”
Rachel felt cold.
“What key?”
Camille looked toward her.
“The brass one Teresa gave you.”
“Why?”
“Vincent told me it opened a box containing documents that could ruin the family.”
Alessandro leaned back.
“So you lied about the bracelet.”
“Yes.”
“And you accused Rachel of pushing my mother.”
Camille's eyes filled.
“That wasn't supposed to happen.”
Alessandro remembered Evelyn's account of Vincent saying almost the same words outside Elena's hospital room.
“What was supposed to happen?”
Camille swallowed.
“Teresa was supposed to become upset. The nurse was supposed to recommend that she spend a few weeks somewhere quiet. Vincent said your mother needed professional care.”
“So you removed her walker.”
“Yes.”
Rachel felt anger rise in her chest.
“You knew she could fall.”
“I thought she'd stay seated!”
“But Vincent told you to make sure she stood.”
Camille stared at Rachel.
“How do you know that?”
Alessandro answered.
“The intercom recorded you.”
Camille's face drained of color.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Camille whispered, “He told me the recording system was off.”
Alessandro shook his head.
“You still chose to do it.”
She began crying.
“I know.”
“Why?”
Camille looked at him.
“Because Vincent said you were about to find out something that would destroy us.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
“He said your mother had been hiding evidence against your father. He said if the truth came out, the Romano name would be finished.”
Alessandro's expression remained cold.
“And that mattered more than my mother's safety?”
“No.” Camille wiped her face. “But I was afraid of losing everything.”
Rachel looked at her expensive dress.
Her diamonds.
The breakfast room that cost more than Rachel's childhood home.
“You mean this?” Rachel asked.
Camille shook her head.
“My mother lost our house when I was nineteen. My father had debts nobody knew about. We lived in a motel for eight months.”
Alessandro had heard part of that story before.
Camille rarely spoke about it.
“I promised myself I'd never be helpless again,” she said.
“Being frightened of poverty doesn't give you the right to hurt someone else,” Rachel replied.
Camille looked down.
“I know that now.”
Alessandro wasn't ready to believe her.
“Where were you on the day of Sophie's accident?”
Camille closed her eyes.
“At the center.”
Rachel gripped the table.
“Why did you lie?”
“Because I knew how it would sound.”
“Who was driving?”
Camille looked directly at her.
“I was.”
Rachel stepped backward.
The room seemed to tilt.
“You hit my sister?”
Camille shook her head quickly.
“No. Listen to me. I was driving when we arrived, but Vincent took the keys before the accident.”
“Why?”
“He said he needed to speak with someone inside. I went to buy coffee. When I came back, there were ambulances everywhere.”
Alessandro watched her closely.
“Did you see Vincent afterward?”
“Yes. He was near the parking garage, talking to Arthur.”
“Was he driving?”
“I didn't see.”
“Did you ask?”
Camille's voice dropped.
“Vincent told me there had been an accident and said the car had been stolen.”
Rachel felt nauseated.
“Then why did you help him afterward?”
“Because he showed me the security footage.”
Everyone went still.
Alessandro leaned forward.
“What footage?”
Camille looked toward Marco.
“Vincent had a copy. He said it proved I had been driving when Sophie was hit.”
“But you say you weren't.”
“I wasn't.”
“Then why didn't you challenge him?”
“Because the recording showed only part of the incident. My access card placed me there. Vincent said he'd make sure I went to prison unless I helped him.”
Alessandro studied her.
“You could have come to me.”
Camille laughed through her tears.
“You believed Vincent over everyone. He'd tell you I was stealing company money, and you'd believe him.”
“Were you?”
Camille went silent.
Alessandro stared at her.
“Camille.”
“I signed transfers I didn't understand. Vincent said they were internal loans.”
“How much?”
“Nearly three million dollars.”
Rachel looked at her.
“And you still threatened my sister's treatment?”
Camille couldn't meet her eyes.
“Yes.”
Alessandro removed his engagement ring from the chain he sometimes wore beneath his shirt.
Elena's wedding band hung beside it.
He had kept both rings close to his heart.
He looked at Camille.
“You're not going to be my wife.”
She stared.
“Alessandro—”
“You endangered my mother, threatened Rachel, and helped Vincent hide financial crimes. Whatever he threatened you with, you still had choices.”
Camille began sobbing.
“I love you.”
He looked genuinely sad.
“I wanted to believe that.”
For the first time, Camille seemed to understand that the life she'd tried so desperately to secure was already gone.
She removed her engagement ring.
Placed it beside the coffee cup.
And pushed it toward him.
“I don't expect forgiveness.”
Alessandro took the ring.
“But I need to know where Vincent keeps the footage.”
Camille looked at Marco.
“He has a climate-controlled records room above the old shipping office.”
Marco shook his head.
“We searched that room last year during the renovation.”
“Not the room behind the filing shelves,” Camille said.
Alessandro frowned.
“Vincent had a separate records area built without permission?”
“Yes. But the canister won't be there.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Vincent took it to Arthur yesterday.”
Rachel looked sharply at her.
“What did Arthur want with it?”
Camille swallowed.
“He said there was something on the original recording that Vincent hadn't noticed.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
Alessandro rose.
“Then we'll ask Arthur.”
Camille caught his sleeve.
“Don't go to his house.”
“Why?”
“He's not there. Vincent arranged a meeting at the Bellamy Heritage offices this afternoon.”
“With whom?”
Camille looked at Rachel.
“With Sophie.”
Rachel's heart stopped.
“My sister?”
Camille nodded.
“Arthur sent an invitation through her rehabilitation counselor. He told her a financial settlement was ready and that she could finally learn who caused her accident.”
Rachel pulled out her phone.
She had spoken to Sophie the previous evening.
Her sister hadn't mentioned any appointment.
Then she remembered.
Sophie had said someone from the foundation wanted to discuss a new treatment program.
Rachel turned toward Alessandro.
“We need to get her.”
He reached for his coat.
But Camille spoke again.
“There is one thing I haven't told you.”
Alessandro turned.
Camille's voice trembled.
“Arthur doesn't only have the accident video.”
“What else?”
“He has a recording Elena made the night before she died.”
The room fell silent.
Camille looked at Rachel.
“And on that recording, your mother tells Elena that if she exposes Arthur Bellamy, both her daughters will pay.”
Rachel couldn't breathe.
“My mother would never threaten anyone.”
Camille shook her head.
“Maybe she wasn't threatening Elena.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe she was warning her.”
Alessandro looked toward the photograph of Elena.
“Then why would Arthur keep the recording?”
Camille stared at him.
“Because there's another voice on it.”
“Whose?”
She hesitated.
“Yours.”
May you like
And suddenly Alessandro remembered the argument he'd had with Elena the night before the crash.
An argument he'd spent thirteen years trying to forget.
