Chapter 369
Chapter 369:
The doctor cleared his throat. “I should get back. I’ll update you as soon as I can.”
He disappeared back through the double doors, leaving the family in tense silence.
“How are you holding up?” Richard asked, his hand gentle on Camille’s shoulder.
The simple question broke something inside her. Tears she’d held back for hours suddenly poured out, her body shaking with sobs. “I’m sorry,” she gasped between breaths. “I can’t seem to stop.”
“Don’t apologize,” her father said. “You’ve been through hell. Cry all you need to.”
Alexander brought her a paper cup of water, his presence steady and calm beside her. The storm continued its assault outside, rain lashing against the windows.
“Where’s Rose?” Margaret asked quietly.
“In FBI custody,” Alexander answered. “She’ll face charges for everything—the bombings, the kidnapping, attempted murder.”
Richard shook his head, his expression haunted. “I still can’t believe it came to this.”
The waiting room fell silent again, except for the drumming of rain against the windows. The nurse at the desk tapped at her computer. A television mounted in the corner buzzed quietly, but no one seemed to be paying attention.
The corner played muted news footage of the burning cabin. A scratchy voice broke the stillness. “I see I’m not too late.”
Victoria Kane stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on a cane. Her face was gray with exhaustion, her body frail from cancer treatments, but her eyes burned with the same fierce determination Camille had come to know and love.
“Victoria,” Camille breathed, rushing to her side. “You shouldn’t be here. Your doctors…”
“My doctors don’t tell me what to do,” Victoria snapped, though without real anger. She let Camille help her to a chair. “Alexander called. Said you needed me.”
Margaret immediately moved to make room. “Victoria, please sit here. It’s more comfortable.”
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The gesture wasn’t lost on Camille. Her mother and Victoria had come a long way from their first icy meeting months ago. The tentative respect they’d established had clearly deepened during Camille’s abduction.
“How is he?” Victoria asked, settling into the offered chair with barely disguised relief.
“Fighting,” Alexander said. “The bullet damaged major blood vessels, but they’re working to repair them.”
Victoria nodded, her gaze drifting to Camille’s bloodstained clothes. “And you, child? Are you hurt?”
“No,” Camille said. “Not physically, anyway.”
Victoria reached for her hand, her grip surprisingly strong despite her weakened state. “You’ve survived worse than this. We all have.”
Richard brought coffee for everyone, the small act of kindness filling the awkward silence. Camille noticed how her father treated Victoria with a mixture of respect and gratitude, a far cry from the tension that had marked their early interactions.
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