Chapter 3 - THE PREGNANT WOMAN DIDN’T KNOW CAMILLE EXISTED UNTIL TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEDDING
Sofia Bellini looked nothing like the woman Camille had imagined during the sleepless hours after finding the ultrasound.
In Camille’s mind, the other woman had been glamorous.
Calculating.
Someone who knew exactly what she was stealing.
Reality sat in a hospital bed wearing pale green scrubs borrowed from a nurse because her dress had been torn.
She looked twenty-seven.
Because she was.
Dark hair tangled around her face.
Bruise on one cheek.
IV line taped to her hand.
Fear hiding beneath anger.
When Camille entered, Sofia stared at her.
Then began crying.
That was inconvenient.
Camille had prepared herself to hate this woman.
Hatred works poorly when the supposed villain looks terrified to meet you.
Dante remained outside because Sofia had requested five minutes alone with Camille.
He hated that.
Camille knew because he said:
“I hate this.”
She answered:
“Then we understand each other.”
Now she closed the hospital-room door.
Sofia wiped her face.
“I’m sorry.”
Camille remained near the door.
“For which part?”
Fair question.
Sofia swallowed.
“For sleeping with Trevor.”
“At least we’re starting honestly.”
“I didn’t know.”
Camille’s expression hardened automatically.
Sofia reached toward the bedside table.
A phone sat there.
New.
Probably Dante’s.
“There are messages.”
“You don’t have to believe me because I’m crying.”
“That’s good.”
“Because I don’t.”
Sofia nodded.
She expected that.
Camille came closer.
Sofia opened archived screenshots from a cloud backup.
Trevor’s messages.
Months.
The first three looked harmless.
Great meeting you today. Your brother’s reputation clearly exaggerated how terrifying the family is.
Sofia:
You haven’t met my brother yet.
Trevor:
Then I’ll behave.
Flirting.
Then more.
Trevor told Sofia he was separated.
Not engaged.
Not living with Camille.
He described Camille as his former girlfriend and business partner.
We’re technically still handling some shared financial things.
Camille laughed bitterly.
Shared financial things.
She had never shared a business with Trevor in her life.
Sofia watched her.
“I believed him.”
“Why?”
The question came sharper than Camille intended.
Sofia did not flinch.
“Because people believe liars when the lie is designed around what they want.”
That answer stopped her.
Sofia continued.
“I was lonely.”
“My last boyfriend lasted three months before admitting dating a Bellini made him nervous.”
“Most men either want access to my family or run from it.”
“Trevor acted like neither.”
Camille almost smiled from the cruelty of the irony.
“He was both.”
“Yes.”
Sofia looked down.
“I found out I was pregnant three weeks ago.”
“What did Trevor say?”
“That he loved me.”
“That his separation was almost finished.”
“That he needed to handle the financial partnership with you before he could announce us.”
“When did you learn about the wedding?”
“Thursday.”
“Two days ago?”
“Yes.”
Camille stared.
“How?”
“My friend sent me your wedding announcement.”
Local society page.
Camille’s mother had submitted it months earlier.
Sofia showed her the screenshot.
CAMILLE HUNT AND TREVOR HALE TO WED SATURDAY AT THE HUNT FAMILY HOME
Photograph.
Camille smiling.
Trevor’s arm around her.
No separation.
No former relationship.
Sofia whispered:
“I thought I was going to throw up.”
“Pregnancy does that.”
For one second, Sofia looked startled.
Then laughed despite tears.
Camille hated that they could share a joke.
It made betrayal messier.
“What did you do?”
“I called him.”
“He hung up.”
“I drove to the apartment Marco keeps for consultants.”
“Trevor was there.”
“Marco?”
“No.”
Sofia’s hands tightened.
“I confronted Trevor.”
“I had the ultrasound because I’d just come from another appointment.”
“He kept saying he could explain.”
“I threw the picture at him.”
That explained why it ended up in Trevor’s coat.
“He said the wedding wasn’t real.”
Camille became still.
“What?”
“He said marrying you was business.”
“He needed the marriage to happen before Saturday night because certain documents became easier to defend afterward.”
“What documents?”
“I don’t know.”
“He said Marco had arranged everything.”
“I told him I was calling Dante.”
“He took my phone.”
Sofia’s voice weakened.
“Tried to calm me down.”
“When I went to leave, he blocked the door.”
Camille felt cold.
“He hit you?”
“No.”
“Not then.”
“He grabbed me.”
“I screamed.”
“A man I didn’t know came in from the hall.”
“He told Trevor to get me under control.”
“Who?”
“I’d never seen him.”
“Then?”
“They moved me.”
“Where?”
“Another apartment.”
“Trevor kept saying I was making everything worse.”
“He said I needed to wait until after the wedding.”
Camille’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
Sofia looked at her.
“Because Saturday night Marco planned to move money again.”
“The marriage gave Trevor a clean explanation for why millions had passed through a company carrying your name.”
There.
A financial marriage.
Camille sat.
Not because she was weak.
Because suddenly standing required too much coordination.
Sofia continued.
“Trevor said if auditors asked, Hunt-Hale was a marital consulting business.”
“He planned to say you handled compliance and he handled client development.”
Camille almost laughed.
They were using her actual profession to make fraud look legitimate.
“And my signature?”
“I don’t know.”
Camille did.
Probably forged.
Police were already preserving Trevor’s laptop.
Her attorney had found that Hunt-Hale’s formation documents used a digital signature copied from an old vendor agreement.
Trevor had stolen even the shape of her name.
Sofia whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Camille looked at her.
“You’ve said that.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Then don’t.”
Sofia nodded.
Good.
Silence was sometimes more respectful than repeated apologies designed to make the speaker feel better.
Camille asked:
“How did you get away?”
Sofia almost smiled.
“Trevor underestimated how often women in my family learn which windows actually open.”
Camille raised an eyebrow.
“The apartment was second floor.”
“I climbed onto a service balcony.”
“Dropped onto a dumpster.”
“Walked seven blocks barefoot.”
Camille looked at her swollen ankle.
“That explains that.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Camille.”
“What?”
“There’s something else.”
Of course.
“Trevor said Marco needed Dante distracted.”
“How?”
“By me.”
Sofia looked ashamed.
“He said if I disappeared close enough to the wedding, Dante would focus on finding me while Marco moved assets.”
Camille’s pulse changed.
“He used your pregnancy and my wedding in the same plan.”
“Yes.”
Two women.
Different lies.
Same man.
Same purpose.
Then Sofia said:
“Trevor was going to leave the country.”
“After the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“With you?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“He told Marco you would be useful as legal cover.”
“But he told me he would take me.”
Camille stared.
“So he was lying to both of us about the part after.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Sofia looked confused.
Camille’s laugh was bitter.
“At least he was consistent.”
The door opened.
Dante stood there.
His eyes went immediately to Sofia.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
Then to Camille.
“You?”
“No.”
He nodded.
No comforting lie.
Good.
Dante entered only when Sofia motioned.
He stayed near the wall.
“What did she tell you?”
Camille answered.
“Trevor didn’t cheat on me because he fell in love.”
“He manipulated your sister because she gave him access to Bellini.”
“He manipulated me because my professional reputation made his shell company look legitimate.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“Marco.”
“Yes.”
Sofia whispered.
Dante’s jaw worked.
Marco Bellini was his first cousin.
Raised almost like a brother.
Dante had appointed him to Bellini Capital six years earlier.
Sofia looked at Dante.
“You knew he was moving money?”
“I knew numbers were wrong.”
“You didn’t know Marco?”
“No.”
“Trevor?”
“Suspected.”
Dante looked toward Camille.
“I sent people to locate Trevor quietly because if I accused him before understanding the structure, Marco could move everything.”
Camille’s eyes narrowed.
“You were investigating Trevor before my wedding?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Twelve days.”
She stood.
Anger moved through her fast.
“You knew my fiancé was involved in stealing millions twelve days ago?”
Dante’s expression became guarded.
“I knew he might be.”
“You knew enough to follow him.”
“Yes.”
“And nobody thought to tell the woman marrying him?”
Sofia looked between them.
Dante answered:
“I didn’t know what he was doing with you.”
“Really?”
Camille’s voice sharpened.
“You had my corporate filings.”
“My signature samples.”
“You knew about Hunt-Hale.”
“When?”
He said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Camille stepped closer.
“When did you learn my name was on that company?”
“Eight days ago.”
She stared.
Eight days.
Eight days before she almost married Trevor.
Dante’s voice softened.
“I did not know whether you were involved.”
“You thought I might be laundering money with him.”
“Yes.”
“And did you investigate me?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
Sofia whispered:
“Dante.”
He ignored her.
Camille’s anger felt clean.
Useful.
“You could have made one anonymous call.”
“And said what?”
Dante asked.
“Your fiancé may be involved in a multimillion-dollar theft, but I’m a suspected organized-crime figure and I can’t explain how I know?”
“Yes.”
“Anything.”
“You let me walk toward a wedding because protecting your investigation mattered more than warning me.”
His face changed.
Because she was right.
“I’m sorry.”
Camille laughed once.
“You don’t get points for saying that fast.”
“No.”
He accepted it.
That made being angry slightly harder.
Dante continued.
“I thought if you were innocent, Trevor would reveal more by proceeding.”
Camille went still.
“You used me as bait.”
“I did not intend—”
“No.”
She raised one hand.
“Intent is not magic.”
Sofia closed her eyes.
Dante looked genuinely ashamed.
“I should have warned you.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t.”
“No.”
Camille picked up her coat.
Sofia looked alarmed.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Camille—”
“I believe you.”
Sofia stopped.
Camille looked at her.
“I believe Trevor lied to you.”
“That does not make us friends.”
“It does not make this okay.”
“But I don’t blame you for a story he invented before you knew I existed.”
Sofia started crying again.
Camille looked toward Dante.
“You?”
His expression tightened.
“You are not following me.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Your men?”
“No.”
“Tracking my car?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She reached the door.
Dante spoke.
“Camille.”
She looked back.
“If Trevor contacts you, call police.”
“Not you?”
A tiny pause.
Then:
“Police first.”
Good answer.
“And if you think you are in immediate danger…”
He handed her a card.
One number.
No title.
No company.
“Then me.”
Camille took it.
Not because she trusted him.
Because she was not stupid enough to refuse information in a dangerous situation.
That evening, Trevor contacted her.
Not by phone.
By email.
Subject:
YOU DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE DEALING WITH.
Camille opened it with her attorney present.
One sentence.
BELLINI IS USING YOU, AND IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH ABOUT WHY HE REALLY LET OUR WEDDING HAPPEN, COME ALONE TOMORROW.
Attached was a photograph.
Dante Bellini standing beside Marco.
And between them—
Trevor.
May you like
The photograph was dated six months earlier.
Long before Dante claimed he had begun investigating him.
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