Chapter 282

Chapter 282:

Victoria rose from her chair, moving with the careful grace of someone managing constant pain. She sat beside Camille, taking her hand. “Then we don’t go. We issue a statement. Send the donations directly. The hospital still gets its money, and we remain safe.”

Camille shook her head. “If we do that, we’ll be running from Rose forever. Always wondering when she’ll strike next. Always looking over our shoulders.” She squeezed Victoria’s hand. “I can’t live that way. Not anymore.”

Victoria studied her adopted daughter’s face, pride mingling with worry in her eyes. “You’ve come so far from the woman I found in that parking garage.”

“Because of you.”

“You taught me to face my fears,” Camille said softly. “To transform pain into power.”

“Perhaps I taught you too well,” Victoria murmured. “Sometimes wisdom lies in strategic retreat.”

“Not this time.” Camille stood, renewed determination straightening her spine. “Alexander has done everything possible to secure the gala. Stefan has provided insights into Rose’s tactics. We’re as prepared as we can be.”

Victoria rose more slowly, wincing slightly as she put weight on her left leg. The pain from her cancer was getting worse, though she tried to hide it. “Then at least promise me you’ll stay close to Alexander all night. Don’t wander off alone, not even for a moment.”

“I promise.”

Victoria nodded, apparently satisfied. “I should go. My security team is waiting downstairs. I need to change for tonight.”

After Victoria left, Camille returned to staring at the gown on her bed. The feeling of dread hadn’t disappeared. If anything, it had grown stronger—a shadow at the edge of her consciousness that refused to be dismissed. She picked up her phone, scrolling to Alexander’s number. Her finger hovered over the call button. What would she say? That she was afraid of a dream? That despite all their preparations, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rose would find a way through?

Camille put the phone down without calling. Alexander was already doing everything humanly possible to protect the gala. Her fears would only distract him.

Instead, she turned to get ready. As she stepped into the shower, Camille tried to focus on the positive. The money they would raise tonight. The children who would benefit from the new hospital wing. The statement they would make by proceeding despite the threat Rose posed.

But as water cascaded over her shoulders, Camille couldn’t help but feel she was preparing for her own funeral rather than a celebration.

“Stop it,” she told herself firmly. “This is just what Rose wants. For you to be afraid. To doubt yourself.”

Camille finished her shower and began drying her hair, forcing herself to go through the familiar motions of preparation. Hair. Makeup. Jewelry. The routine helped calm her nerves, pushing the nameless dread to the background.

As she slipped into the blue silk gown, Camille caught her reflection in the full-length mirror. The woman who stared back at her looked confident, powerful, unafraid. The perfect image of Camille Kane, heir to Victoria’s empire, hostess of the most exclusive event of the season.

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