She steps forward, her pregnant belly evident beneath her fitted dress, a physical reminder of everything Fiona tried to taint with her lies.
"How dare you?" Camille's voice is steady, stronger than I've ever heard it. "What have I ever done to you?"
Fiona stares at her, mouth opening and closing like she can't form words.
"You don't even know me," Camille continues, her hands clenched at her sides. "You've never taken the time to have a realconversation with me. Yet you've spent months trying to destroy my reputation, my business, my relationships."
Julian moves slightly closer to Camille, a silent show of support, but he doesn't interrupt. This is her moment. I feel a surge of warmth watching her stand her ground.
"Was it really just because Alex chose my firm?" Camille asks, her voice catching slightly. "Or is it because he choseme? Is your own life so empty that you need to tear others down to feel better about yourself?"
Fiona's face flushes red. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You waltz into this industry with your connections and your pretty face, and suddenly everyone's falling all over themselves to work with you. Some of us had to earn our place."
"You think I haven't earned mine?" Camille's laugh is disbelieving. "I've worked seventy-hour weeks. I've dealt with clients who talked down to me because of my age. I built my business from nothing."
"From nothing?" Fiona scoffs. "With Daddy's money and his country club connections?"
I feel my jaw tighten at the attack, but Camille doesn't flinch.
"Yes, I had advantages," she acknowledges. "I don't deny that. But my success comes from my work, my vision. Not from destroying other people."
Fiona's eyes narrow. "You stole Alex from me. I'd been trying to land him as a client for years."
"I didn't steal anyone," Camille says firmly. "He chose me. And later..." her hand drifts to her stomach, "he chose me again. That's what really bothers you, isn't it? That despite all your efforts, you couldn't make him want you."
The words land like precise knife strikes. Fiona flinches visibly.
"You're just a temporary distraction," Fiona hisses. "A novelty. When he gets bored?—"
"Enough," I cut in, my patience with her attacks on Camille exhausted.
I step forward again, placing myself slightly in front of Camille. The protective instinct is automatic, impossible to suppress. "If you have anything else to say, you’ll need to talk to us through our attorney."
Fiona's facade cracks further. "You're bluffing. You wouldn't actually sue me. The publicity?—"
"Would be worth it," I finish for her. "Every tabloid that printed your lies will be named in the lawsuit. Every false quote, every fabricated source, every damaging story traced back to you. We have the resources to pursue this for years if necessary."
Her face pales. "This will ruin me."
"Yes," I agree simply. "It will."
Tristan speaks up from his position near the door. "Your choices led you here, Fiona. Not ours."
Fiona looks at each of us in turn, perhaps only now fully grasping the united front she's facing. Not just me, but all three of us standing with Camille, protecting her, defending her.
"I'll fight this," she says, but there's little conviction in her voice.
"You'll lose," I reply. "And it will cost you everything."
We turn away from Fiona's stricken face, moving toward the door. Tristan holds it open, and Julian follows after us. I take Camille's hand in mine as we pass the wide-eyed receptionist, who quickly busies herself with something on her computer screen.
In the elevator, Camille exhales slowly, leaning against me. "That was..."
"Perfect," I finish for her. "You were perfect."
Julian grins, some of his usual playfulness returning now that the confrontation is over. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Cami. You're terrifying when you want to be."
A small smile touches her lips, though I can feel the tension still lingering in her body. "I just couldn't not say something to her. Not after everything she's done."
