Chapter 429
Chapter 429:
“Tell Alexander I’m sorry.”
Sorry for what? For leaving him? For not being strong enough to fight Victoria Kane’s systematic destruction? For failing to protect the business that should have eventually passed to his nephew?
Another message appeared: Enough for civil suit at minimum. Criminal charges possible for deliberate targeting causing death. But we need to move quickly before statute of limitations. Meeting when you return.
Alexander wiped his eyes, fingers trembling as he typed: Yes. First day back.
He heard the water shut off in the bathroom. Camille would emerge any moment, wrapped in a towel, hair slicked back, skin flushed from the heat. His wife. The woman who called Victoria Kane “mother.” The woman whose happiness depended on the very person who had driven his uncle to tie that noose.
Alexander deleted the messages, restored his expression to honeymoon contentment, and waited for Camille to appear. The perfect husband on the surface. The perfect betrayer underneath.
The hidden cove embraced them in afternoon warmth, waves whispering against smooth rocks worn by centuries of salt and water. Camille spread their blanket on a patch of sand while Alexander uncorked wine with his good hand. The scene should have been idyllic—two newlyweds in paradise, their skin golden under the Mediterranean sun, the world reduced to blue water and each other. Instead, Alexander’s mind played his uncle’s final words on repeat: “Victoria Kane has taken everything. There’s nothing left. Tell Alexander I’m sorry.”
“You’re doing it again,” Camille said, settling beside him on the blanket. “Going somewhere else while your body stays here.”
Alexander poured wine into plastic cups, buying time. “Sorry. Just enjoying the view.”
“You weren’t looking at the view. You were looking through it.” She accepted her cup, studying him over its rim. “I’m starting to think I’m honeymooning with a ghost.”
He forced a laugh, though panic fluttered in his chest. Camille saw too much, noticed too much. Victoria had trained her well. “Just tired. These stitches make it hard to sleep comfortably.”
Camille’s gaze lingered on his face before she nodded, seemingly accepting the explanation. She stretched out on the blanket, adjusting her bikini strap to avoid tan lines. Alexander used the distraction to check his watch. Four hours until he needed to access the secure server, view whatever documents “Guardian” had uploaded, and move the pieces forward in his revenge plan.
Four hours to be the husband Camille thought she had married.
“Come here,” she said, reaching for him. “I’m feeling neglected.”
Alexander set aside his wine and moved toward her, drawn by forces he couldn’t resist, even when divided. Her body welcomed him, skin warm from the sun, lips tasting of wine. For precious moments, as they moved together on the sun-warmed blanket, hidden from the world in their private cove, he managed to silence his uncle’s final words. “Victoria Kane has taken everything.” Not everything. Not yet. Not Camille.
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