Chapter 3 - What Camille Was Really Searching For

The guests were gone by one in the morning.

Not dismissed politely.

Adrian simply looked at his security chief and said:

“Clear the house.”

No one argued.

The ballroom emptied.

The orchestra packed in silence.

The engagement cake remained untouched.

I stayed because Adrian asked me to.

Mr. Bell stayed because he had waited twenty-one years.

Thomas stayed because he had finally come home.

Camille stayed because there was nowhere left to hide.

We moved to the library.

Adrian stood beside the fireplace.

“You said her mother disappeared.”

Thomas nodded.

“Genevieve Laurent.”

Camille sat across from him.

“My mother vanished when I was twelve.”

I knew the public story.

A boating accident near Montreal.

No body recovered.

Camille had once told me she hated open water because of it.

Thomas placed another photograph on the table.

Genevieve Laurent.

Beautiful.

Dark hair.

Standing beside Thomas Vale.

Adrian stared.

“When was this?”

“Three weeks before I disappeared.”

Camille looked at the photograph like she had never seen it before.

“Why was my mother with you?”

Thomas answered carefully.

“Because she found the same accounts I did.”

Adrian looked at him.

“The Laurent accounts?”

“And Vale accounts.”

That mattered.

Thomas did not make his family innocent.

He continued.

“Your grandfather and Étienne Laurent built a system that moved money through shipping companies, charities and property trusts. Genevieve discovered it years later.”

Camille whispered, “My father said she was sick.”

Thomas looked at her.

“Your father lied.”

She flinched.

Adrian noticed.

“So Camille came into my life searching for her mother.”

Thomas nodded.

“At first.”

Adrian turned to her.

“At first?”

Camille finally spoke.

“My father kept one locked room in our house.”

Her voice sounded smaller than I had ever heard it.

“When I was twenty-six, I found photographs inside.”

“Of what?”

“Your father. My mother. Mr. Bell.”

Mr. Bell frowned.

“Me?”

Camille nodded.

“One photograph showed you driving them somewhere.”

Mr. Bell understood.

“The lake house.”

Thomas looked at him.

“Yes.”

Adrian stepped closer.

“What lake house?”

Thomas did not answer immediately.

That silence angered Adrian again.

“Stop deciding when I’m ready.”

Thomas nodded.

Fair.

“There was a house outside Traverse City. Your grandfather used it for private meetings. Genevieve hid copies of the financial records there.”

Camille looked at Thomas.

“My mother went there with you?”

“Yes.”

“Did she leave alive?”

Thomas’s face changed.

Mr. Bell looked down.

Camille stopped breathing.

Adrian spoke first.

“Answer her.”

Thomas nodded.

“Yes.”

Camille’s eyes closed.

For seventeen years, she had believed her mother died in water.

Now one word changed everything.

“She left the lake house alive?”

“Yes.”

“Then where did she go?”

“I don’t know.”

Camille stared at him.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No.”

Thomas leaned forward.

“I expect you to believe what I can prove.”

He removed a copy of a motel register.

Genevieve Laurent.

Alias: Claire Martin.

Date.

Two days after Thomas disappeared.

Camille touched the page with trembling fingers.

“She was alive after you vanished.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know where you were in all of this.”

That hurt her.

“I was twelve.”

“Then.”

Thomas looked at the engagement ring.

“Not now.”

Adrian’s gaze sharpened.

“What does that mean?”

Thomas looked at Camille.

“She found me last year.”

The room went silent.

Camille stood.

“That is not true.”

Thomas reached into his folder.

A photograph.

Camille in a parking lot.

Thomas beside a car.

Date stamped eleven months earlier.

Before the engagement.

Before Mr. Bell was fired.

Before Camille claimed she had only learned the truth six months ago.

Adrian looked at her.

“You knew my father was alive before I proposed.”

Camille’s face collapsed.

“Yes.”

Mr. Bell turned away.

I felt sick.

Adrian’s voice was almost a whisper.

“You looked me in the face every day.”

“Yes.”

“You watched me visit his empty grave marker.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Camille started crying.

“Because he made me choose.”

Thomas frowned.

“I did no such thing.”

“You told me if Adrian knew you were alive, my father would move everything.”

“That was a warning.”

“It was a choice.”

Adrian stepped between them.

“No.”

They both looked at him.

“You do not get to blame each other for what you kept from me.”

Silence.

Then Adrian looked at Camille.

“What were you searching for in my house?”

She wiped her face.

“The original lake house key.”

Mr. Bell slowly reached into his coat.

Not another secret.

Something old.

Brass.

Worn.

A small key.

Camille stared.

“You had it.”

Mr. Bell nodded.

“Thomas gave it to me twenty-one years ago.”

Adrian looked at him.

“Why?”

Mr. Bell placed the key beside the silver watch.

“Because what Genevieve hid in that house could destroy both families.”

Camille whispered:

“Or tell me what happened to my mother.”

Mr. Bell looked at Adrian.

Then Thomas.

Then her.

“Yes.”

Adrian picked up the key.

“Then we go there.”

Thomas shook his head.

“No.”

Adrian’s eyes hardened.

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Thomas finished.

“Because someone else already did.”