Chapter 137
Chapter 137:
“She wants to make sure I don’t have it either,” Camille finished quietly.
“Exactly. It’s not just revenge anymore. It’s erasure.”
Alexander’s expression had transformed. The jealousy had faded, replaced by reluctant recognition. He believed Stefan. More importantly, he recognized genuine remorse.
“How do we know this isn’t some elaborate plot?” Victoria asked. “You betrayed Camille once. Why should we believe you won’t do it again?”
Stefan met her gaze directly. “You shouldn’t. Trust has to be earned, and I haven’t earned yours. But I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m just offering information.”
“If you’re sincere,” Alexander said, “what else can you provide? Beyond psychological insights?”
“I know Rose’s habits. Her favorite places. The people she still trusts.” Stefan straightened slightly. “I could help your security team track her movements, identify meeting places with Preston.”
Alexander nodded slowly, calculating the value against the risks. His protective stance relaxed slightly.
Victoria remained unmoved. “While you’re being so helpful, perhaps you could explain why we should believe you’re not still working for her interests.”
“I can’t prove a negative. All I can tell you is that Rose slapped me hard enough to leave a mark when I confronted her yesterday.” He touched his cheek, where a faint bruise was visible. “She’s made it clear I’m her enemy too.”
Camille watched him, searching for the deception she’d missed years ago: the smooth charm, the practiced sincerity. She found neither. The man before her seemed hollowed out, stripped of pretense.
“I’d like to speak with Stefan alone,” she said suddenly.
Victoria’s head snapped toward her. “Camille…”
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“Just for a few minutes,” Camille insisted. “I think I’ve earned that right.”
A silent communication passed between them. Finally, Victoria nodded sharply.
“Five minutes,” she said, rising. “Not a second more.”
Alexander hesitated, torn between respecting Camille’s wishes and his instinct to shield her. His eyes searched hers.
“It’s okay,” Camille assured him.
Reluctantly, Alexander stood. As he passed Stefan, he paused. “If this is some kind of game,” he said, his voice low, “if you hurt her again, what Victoria does to you will seem merciful compared to my response.”
When the door closed, a heavy silence filled the room. Camille studied her former husband across the table—so familiar once, now a stranger.
“Why are you really here, Stefan?” she asked quietly.
“I told you—”
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