Chapter 9 - THE DAY TREVOR HEARD CAMILLE SAY NO FOR THE LAST TIME
Trevor accepted a plea agreement fourteen months after the canceled wedding.
The potential sentence was long.
Not life.
Long enough.
His cooperation against Elliot and Dominic reduced some exposure.
His crimes against Serena and Camille remained.
Before sentencing, Trevor requested one meeting with Camille.
Her attorney advised against it.
Nadia said absolutely not.
Roman said:
“Your choice.”
Camille looked at him.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You hate the idea.”
“Deeply.”
“Then why?”
“Because hating your choice does not make it mine.”
Camille kissed him.
Then agreed to meet Trevor.
Federal detention facility.
Glass partition.
No physical contact.
Trevor entered wearing a plain uniform.
He looked smaller.
Not physically.
Socially.
No expensive coat.
No phone.
No carefully managed identity.
Just a man.
Camille picked up the receiver.
Trevor did too.
“Hi.”
She almost laughed at how normal it sounded.
“Hi.”
He stared.
“You look good.”
“Thank you.”
Silence.
“Are you with Roman?”
Camille’s expression tightened.
“That is not why I came.”
Trevor looked down.
“Sorry.”
“You requested this.”
“Yes.”
“So talk.”
His eyes filled.
“I wanted to see whether you hated me.”
Camille sat back.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
He swallowed.
“Because if you hate me, maybe it means what we had mattered enough to destroy.”
Camille stared.
There it was.
Trevor still turning her feelings into evidence about himself.
“I don’t hate you.”
His face changed.
Relief.
She stopped it.
“That is not forgiveness.”
Relief disappeared.
“I loved you.”
Trevor closed his eyes.
“Cam—”
“Listen.”
He did.
“I loved you.”
Her voice remained steady.
“I loved the man I thought you were.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“Some of that man probably existed.”
Camille surprised herself.
“I believe you when you say part of what you felt for me became real.”
Trevor cried.
“But you treated real love as permission to keep lying.”
He looked down.
“You kept saying later.”
A pause.
“After the wedding.”
“After the escape.”
“After the money.”
“After danger passed.”
Camille leaned closer.
“There is always an after.”
Trevor’s face crumpled.
“You never planned to become honest.”
“I did.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You planned to become honest after dishonesty stopped benefiting you.”
Silence.
That landed.
Trevor wiped his face.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Do you forgive me?”
Camille thought.
Months ago, she believed closure required an answer.
Now she knew better.
“I don’t know.”
Trevor nodded.
“You love him?”
Roman.
Camille almost refused.
Then answered because the truth no longer frightened her.
“Yes.”
Trevor closed his eyes.
“That fast.”
Camille’s face hardened.
“Do not insult me.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You targeted me for money before our first date.”
He flinched.
“You don’t get to measure the legitimacy of what came after you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Roman and I are not you and me.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Camille’s voice softened.
“He tells me ugly things before asking me to stay.”
Trevor looked at her.
“That is the difference.”
Silence.
Then Trevor whispered:
“Would you have married me if I told you everything before the wedding?”
Camille knew the answer.
“No.”
He cried harder.
“That’s why I didn’t.”
Exactly.
Camille felt something finally settle.
Not anger.
Not triumph.
Clarity.
“You understand that sentence is the entire problem.”
Trevor nodded.
“Yes.”
For once, he did.
Camille stood.
“Goodbye, Trevor.”
“Camille.”
She stopped.
“I hope he deserves you.”
Camille looked through the glass.
“No.”
Trevor frowned.
She smiled faintly.
“I hope we deserve each other.”
Then she left.
Outside, Roman waited beside the car.
No questions.
Camille got in.
He followed.
After ten minutes, she said:
“You can ask.”
“How was it?”
“Sad.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Did he apologize?”
“Yes.”
“Did it help?”
“A little.”
Roman nodded.
That was all.
Camille looked at him.
“You’re not asking what I said about you?”
“I desperately want to.”
She laughed.
“But?”
“But you’ll tell me if you want.”
Camille reached across the console and took his hand.
“I told him I love you.”
Roman stopped breathing.
The SUV continued through traffic.
For once, the feared Roman Vale looked completely incapable of speech.
Camille smiled.
“You look terrified.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Because I’m tired of being the only one.”
He laughed.
Then lifted her hand and kissed it.
Not ownership.
Gratitude.
Trevor was sentenced weeks later.
Camille did not attend.
Serena did.
She gave a victim statement.
Trevor apologized to her directly.
She accepted the apology.
Not forgiveness.
Dominic received decades.
Elliot received a long sentence after conviction for Noah’s murder and conspiracy.
Vincent Vale eventually pleaded guilty to racketeering and obstruction.
Roman did not visit him.
Serena did once.
She came home and told Roman:
“He said he did it to protect the family.”
Roman laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Serena looked at him.
“You used to say that too.”
Roman went quiet.
Then nodded.
“I know.”
Growth was not becoming different enough to forget who you had been.
It was becoming honest enough to recognize the old language when someone else used it.
Camille watched brother and sister rebuild slowly.
Lunches.
Arguments.
Boundaries.
Roman learned not to call Serena’s security team for updates unless she authorized it.
He failed twice.
Serena threatened to move countries.
He improved.
Camille loved them both for trying.
Then, twenty months after the canceled wedding, Roman came to Thomas Hunt’s house alone.
No guards at the gate.
No dark sedans.
No warning.
Thomas opened the door.
Roman said:
“I need to ask you something.”
Thomas stared.
“If you’re asking permission to marry Camille, leave.”
Roman blinked.
Thomas continued.
“She is thirty-three.”
A pause.
“Ask her.”
Roman smiled.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Thomas stepped aside.
May you like
Camille, listening from the staircase, nearly cried.
Everyone had learned something.
