Chapter 423

Chapter 423:

“I said it’s fine.” He jerked away, immediately regretting his harshness when hurt flashed across her face.

“Talk to me,” she pleaded, reaching for him again. “Something’s been eating you alive since we got here. Whatever it is…”

“Drop it, Camille.” His voice cut like the glass scattered across the tiles. “I mean it.”

The silence between them stretched taut, like a noose. Camille’s expression hardened into something he recognized from her Kane training: assessment, calculation, strategy. Victoria’s protégée surfacing from beneath the passionate woman he’d been with moments earlier.

“Get dressed,” she said finally, her voice cool. “I’ll call the front desk about a doctor.”

The local doctor spoke limited English, grimacing as he picked glass from Alexander’s knuckles. Twelve stitches later, they sat in strained silence on the terrace, lunch untouched between them. The view mocked them: turquoise water sparkling beneath a perfect sky, lemon groves cascading down terraced hills, postcard beauty surrounding their private hell.

“I found something in your suitcase yesterday,” Camille said suddenly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. “While looking for bandages.”

Alexander’s stomach plummeted. The lily. The photograph.

“A pressed white lily. And a photo of a man who looks remarkably like you.” She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “Who is he, Alexander?”

The sound of his full name from her lips, not “Alex,” not the intimate shortening she used in their most private moments, told him everything about her mental state.

He stared at his bandaged hand, searching for words that revealed nothing while still satisfying her curiosity. The war inside him intensified. Tell her. Tell no one. Avenge. Protect. Past. Future.

“Nobody important,” he said finally, his tone flat with finality. “Just things I didn’t realize were packed.”

Camille’s jaw tightened. She knew he was lying. “So you’ve been carrying meaningless items that just happen to be carefully preserved? That just happen to make you smash mirrors when you look at them?”

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“Leave it alone, Camille.” Each word emerged like broken glass. “Please.”

For a moment, he thought she would push further. The strategist Victoria had trained assessed him, seeking weaknesses, calculating angles of attack. Then something in her expression shifted, and she was simply his wife again, hurt but yielding.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “Keep your secrets. But remember, you promised to share your life with me, not just your bed.”

The words struck with devastating precision. Guilt flooded him, thick and suffocating. Before he could respond, her phone chimed. Camille glanced at the screen, her expression shifting instantly.

“It’s Victoria,” she said, already answering. “Victoria? Is everything okay?”

Alexander’s muscles locked as he watched Camille’s face transform, worry to relief to joy. Whatever news Victoria shared lifted the shadows from her eyes, brought color rushing back to her cheeks. She laughed, tears suddenly spilling down her face.

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