Chapter 161

Chapter 161:

“She’s going to live,” she whispered against the fabric of his shirt. “She’s going to live.”

Alexander held her, one hand stroking her hair. “I told you she was too stubborn to give up.”

A laugh bubbled up through Camille’s tears. “She is the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.”

They stayed like that for several minutes, Camille allowing herself this moment of vulnerability. When she finally pulled away, wiping her eyes, she felt lighter somehow, as if a weight had shifted inside her.

“I need to call the office,” she said, reaching for her phone. “The board expects an update this morning.”

Alexander caught her hand. “What will you tell them?”

Camille hesitated. Victoria had been clear—no one could know about her illness. “That Victoria came through her medical procedure successfully and is resting comfortably. That she’ll be working remotely during her recovery from… exhaustion.”

Alexander nodded. “And Rose and Herod?”

“They don’t get to know anything,” Camille said, her voice hardening. “If they suspect Victoria is weakened, they’ll accelerate whatever they’re planning.”

“They already are,” Alexander reminded her. “The stock purchases, the whisper campaign, the attempts to access our systems.”

“Then we’ll be ready,” Camille said, a new determination filling her. With Victoria alive, with the threat of loss retreating, her mind cleared. “In fact, let them come. I’m tired of playing defense.”

An hour later, Camille stood outside Victoria’s recovery room, her heart hammering against her ribs. Through the small window in the door, she could see Victoria’s still form, surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed.

“Go on,” Alexander urged gently. “I’ll wait here.”

Camille nodded, squaring her shoulders before pushing the door open. The room was dimly lit, the blinds drawn against the morning sun. Victoria lay against white sheets, her silver hair spread across the pillow, her skin pale but no longer bearing the gray undertone that had frightened Camille so deeply. She approached the bed quietly, sinking into the chair positioned beside it. Victoria’s hand lay atop the blanket, an IV line snaking from her wrist. Camille hesitated, then carefully took that hand in her own.

“I’m here,” she said softly.

Victoria’s eyelids fluttered at the sound of her voice. Camille held her breath, watching as Victoria struggled toward consciousness, fighting against the heavy pull of anesthesia.

Finally, her eyes opened—unfocused at first, then gradually sharpening as they found Camille’s face.

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