Chapter 258
Chapter 258:
Her assistant’s voice came through the intercom. “Mrs. Lewis has arrived.”
Victoria straightened her jacket, checked her reflection once more, and squared her shoulders. No one, not even Margaret Lewis, would see her weakness today.
“Send her in.”
Margaret Lewis stepped into the office, hesitating just inside the doorway. The mother of the daughter Victoria had claimed as her own. Once, Victoria had hated this woman for her blindness, for choosing Rose over Camille time and again. Now, facing her own mortality, hate felt like a luxury she could no longer afford.
“Thank you for coming,” Victoria said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.
Margaret sat, her hands fidgeting with her purse. “Your message said it was about Camille.”
“Yes.” Victoria lowered herself into her chair, fighting not to show how much the simple movement pained her. “I need to speak with you about Camille’s future.”
“Her future?” Margaret’s eyebrows rose. “I thought that was firmly in your hands.”
“For now,” Victoria said, pushing a small button on her desk, and the office windows darkened, giving them complete privacy. “But my time is limited.”
“What do you mean?”
Victoria rarely showed her cards to anyone, but death had a way of changing the rules. “I’m dying, Mrs. Lewis. Cancer. It’s spread to my liver and bones.”
Margaret’s shock was evident on her face. “Does Camille know?”
“No,” Victoria shook her head. “She thinks the surgery was successful. That I’m recovering.”
“Why lie to her?”
“To protect her. She has enough to deal with right now. Rose is still out there, still dangerous.” Victoria leaned forward. “And Camille would put everything aside to care for me if she knew the truth. Her work. Her relationship with Pierce. Her own healing. I can’t allow that.”
Margaret studied Victoria’s face. “So why tell me? We’ve hardly been allies.”
“Because I’m running out of time to secure what matters,” Victoria’s voice hardened. “And despite everything, you’re still Camille’s mother. She may need you when I’m gone.”
The words seemed to hit Margaret like a physical blow. “You’ve been more of a mother to her this past year than I was for decades.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Victoria’s voice softened. “You raised her to be kind. To be strong in ways I never understood until I met her. You gave her eighteen good years before Rose entered your life.”
Tears filled Margaret’s eyes. “And then I failed her. Completely.”
Victoria nodded, not offering false comfort. “Yes. You chose wrong. Repeatedly. But now you have a chance to choose differently.”
“Is that why I’m here? For absolution?”
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