Not because I care what her guests think. Because I know exactly what it would do to Viktor. To Ethan. To the whole house. And if Ethan already suspects too much, this would push him the rest of the way.
Camille watches me realize that and smiles wider. “There it is,” she says. “You do understand.”
I hate that she’s enjoying this.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Now we’re having the correct conversation.”
She lowers the phone and walks to the window, glancing out into the dark as if she’s discussing flower placement instead of blackmail.
“I know you and Ethan were involved,” she says. “That part was obvious from the start. Too much history. Too much weirdtension. Too much of you looking at him like you wanted to kill him.”
I say nothing.
She turns back to me. “And now, apparently, you’ve decided his father is the better target.”
The sheer vulgarity of the accusation almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
“You think I’m targeting Viktor?”
“I think,” she says, “that women like you always need a way in.”
I look at her for a moment and then say, “You really don’t know anything.”
“No,” she says. “I know exactly enough.”
She steps closer again, phone loose in her hand.
“Here’s what happens next,” she says. “You stay away from Viktor. Completely. No private conversations. No dramatic little rescues. No more scenes where he carries you around like some wounded heroine. And you keep whatever history you have with Ethan buried so deeply it never sees daylight again.”
I feel something cold and hard settle into place inside me. “And if I don’t?”
Her smile returns. “Then this photo goes to Ethan first.” She lifts one shoulder. “After that, who knows? Alina. The guests. Maybe the whole family breakfast table tomorrow if I’m feeling generous.”
I stare at her.
She really would. Not because she’s evil in some grand dramatic way. Because she’s spoiled and frightened and can’t stand not controlling the story.
“And what exactly do you think happens then?” I ask.
Camille’s eyes narrow slightly. “Don’t.”
“No, really.” I take a step toward her. “What do you think happens if you start throwing this around? You embarrass me? Fine. You embarrass Ethan? Also fine. But do you really want to embarrass Viktor?”
That gives her pause.
Good.
Only a small hesitation, but I see it.
She covers it quickly. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?”
For the first time since she walked in, she looks less certain. Not afraid, exactly. Just aware that she may be playing with something bigger than her own wedding drama now.
