Camille’s point of view
Victoria’s gaze sharpened. “Yes. Every lesson, every challenge, every seemingly excessive demand, they all serve that purpose. To make you stronger than Sophia was. More prepared for the dangers wealth and power attract.” “And to make me capable of the revenge you’ve planned.”
“That too,” she acknowledged. “The people who hurt you must pay for what they’ve done. But beyond revenge lies something more important, your future. What you’ll build after justice is served.”
I considered her words, understanding for the first time that Victoria’s vision extended beyond my usefulness as an instrument of revenge. She was investing in me for reasons beyond my resemblance to Sophia or my vendetta against Rose.
“I still shouldn’t have come in here without permission,” said after a moment. “This space is sacred to you. I violated that.”
Victoria sighed, tension visibly leaving her shoulders. “Perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps it was even necessary.” She turned fully toward me. “You cannot become who you need to be while seeing me as merely a mentor or benefactor. You need to understand who I am beneath the power and wealth.”
“A mother who lost her child,” I said softly.
“Yes.” The simple acknowledgment carried volumes of pain. “A woman who built an empire, then watched it become meaningless in an instant when her daughter’s heart stopped beating.”
She stepped into Sophia’s room, beckoning me to follow. This time the invitation was deliberate, conscious. She moved to the closet, sliding open the door to reveal clothing still hanging neatly, designer dresses, casual wear, university sweatshirts.
“She was taller than you,” Victoria observed. “More athletic build. Preferred blues and greens to the warm tone that suit your coloring.”
From a high shelf, she removed a small wooden box inlaid with mother–of–pearl. “Sophia’s jewelry. Things she cherished, mostly for sentimental rather than monetary value.”
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