Chapter 4 - The Confession in the Library
By midnight, the mansion was dead silent. The lake outside crashed softly against the stone seawall, a rhythmic, hypnotic sound that failed to bring Camille any peace.
Both twins were fast asleep in the adjoining room, tucked into luxurious feather beds surrounded by soft plush toys. Dr. Hayes had examined Camille’s throat, applied a soothing medicated salve, and pronounced her resilient, though needing rest.
Instead of sleeping, Camille walked out into the dimly lit hallway. Her bare feet made no sound on the thick Persian runner rugs. She followed the scent of aged cedar wood and burning tobacco down the hall toward the west wing, pushing open the heavy oak door of the estate's private library.
Adrian was sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, a single green-shaded desk lamp illuminating the paperwork spread out before him. A glass of amber whiskey sat untouched at his elbow. He looked up the moment the door clicked, as if he had been expecting her.
"You shouldn't be walking around," Adrian said quietly, closing a leather-bound ledger. "Your throat needs time to heal."
"I don't sleep well when I'm locked in a golden cage," Camille replied, stepping into the warm circle of light. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you going to keep us here forever?"
"As long as it takes," Adrian said. He stood up, walking slowly toward her, stopping a few feet away. The tension between them was electric, charged with years of unspoken history. "Sit down, Camille."
"No. Tell me the truth, Adrian. Six years ago, why did I have to run? Why did you let me walk out of that hospital thinking you were dead?"
Adrian turned away, walking over to the tall arched windows that looked out over the dark, churning waters of Lake Michigan. He rested his hands on the stone sill.
"Six years ago, my uncle Vincent tried to stage a coup within the syndicate," Adrian spoke softly, his voice heavy with ancient ghosts. "He wanted my position, and to secure it, he targeted everything I loved. I knew I was walking into a war zone. If the council knew I had a woman—if they knew you were pregnant—they would have torn you apart to get to me. Faking my own near-death in that warehouse explosion was the only way to draw them out into the open and destroy them."
"And you couldn't tell me?" Camille’s voice broke, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "You let me grieve you. You let me raise our daughters alone, terrified, running from city to city, while you fought your bloody wars?"
"If I had told you, you would have refused to run," Adrian turned back, his dark eyes shining with an anguish he rarely showed the world. "You would have stayed to fight beside me. And I couldn't risk your life, Camille. Or theirs." He took a step closer. "I watched you from a distance every single day. I watched you work yourself to the bone at those diners. I watched you protect Willa and Josie with everything you had. I cursed myself a thousand times for not being there to hold you when things got hard."
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"Words don't erase five years of hell, Adrian," Camille whispered, though the fierce anger in her chest was slowly dissolving into a painful, aching hollow.
"I know," Adrian said, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur. "I don't expect forgiveness tonight. But I expect you to accept the one truth that matters: Travis is never walking free again. And nobody will ever threaten you or my daughters on my soil."
