Chapter 129
Chapter 129:
The host seated her with a professional smile, leaving her alone with her thoughts and a sparkling water she wouldn’t drink.
Camille smoothed her navy dress, a simple design that concealed the tension in her body. The silver rose pendant Alexander had returned to her hung at her throat, a reminder of who she had been before Rose’s betrayal, before Victoria’s transformation.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Alexander: Everything ok?
She typed: They haven’t arrived yet.
I’m in the lobby if you need me.
A small smile touched her lips. Alexander hadn’t questioned her decision to face her parents alone, but he’d insisted on accompanying her to the hotel. Her shield, waiting in the background.
The elevator doors opened, and Camille’s smile vanished. Her stomach tightened into a knot.
Margaret and Richard Lewis stepped into the restaurant, looking smaller than she remembered. Her mother scanned the space, her hands clutched around her purse. Her father stood slightly behind, his shoulders rounded in a way Camille had never seen before.
They spotted her. Hesitated. Then walked toward her table with careful steps. Camille did not stand. Did not smile. Did not offer her cheek for the kiss her mother leaned in to give before thinking better of it.
“Camille,” Margaret said, the name catching in her throat. “Thank you for… for agreeing to meet us.”
“Please,” Richard gestured to the chairs. “May we sit?”
Camille nodded, her face revealing nothing. Victoria would have been proud. They settled awkwardly, all the social graces they’d drilled into her now useless in the face of their broken relationship.
“You look well,” her mother tried. “Healthy.”
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“I am,” Camille kept her voice neutral. “Victoria takes good care of her investments.”
Her mother flinched at the word “investments.” Her father cleared his throat. “Camille, we…” Richard began.
“Why did you want to meet?” Camille cut him off. Direct. No small talk.
Her parents exchanged glances. Margaret nodded slightly, and Richard reached down for a leather satchel he’d placed beside his chair. He removed a flat package wrapped in blue cloth and placed it on the table.
“We wanted to give you these,” he said. “They’re yours. They’ve always been yours.”
Camille didn’t touch the package. “What is it?”
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