Camille’s POV

The parking garage of the hotel where I lodged was too quiet. My heels echoed against concrete, each click bouncing off empty cars and shadowed pillars. It was late, past midnight, but something felt wrong. Off.

My confrontation with Rose and my family had left me drained, empty except for the cold satisfaction of finally seeing behind her mask. I fumbled with my key fob, wanting nothing more than to get to my hotel room and plan my next move.

A car door slammed somewhere in the darkness.

I stopped, listening. Nothing but the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of traffic.

My phone buzzed in my purse. Rose’s number. I declined it, but not before noticing my signal had dropped to one bar.

Perfect.

Footsteps behind me. Multiple sets.

I walked faster, cursing my choice of heels. The hotel’s elevator was just around the corner, past a row of concrete pillars. If I could just...

“Going somewhere, Mrs. Rodriguez?”

A man stepped out from behind a pillar. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black. Professional. Two more appeared behind me, cutting off my retreat.

Not a random attack, then.

“Actually, it’s Ms. Lewis now.” My voice stayed steady despite my racing heart. “And I have a dinner reservation, so if you’ll excuse me...”

The first man smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “I’m afraid your plans have changed.”

I gripped my purse tighter, feeling for the pepper spray I’d started carrying after signing the divorce papers. “Did my sister send you? Or was it Stefan?”

“Our employer prefers to remain anonymous.” He stepped closer. “Now, we can do this the easy way...”

I didn’t let him finish. The pepper spray caught him directly in the eyes.

He screamed, stumbling backward. I ran, kicking off my heels as I sprinted for the elevator. The other two men shouted, their footsteps thundering behind me.

Almost there. Just a few more...

Pain exploded in my scalp as someone grabbed my hair, yanking me backward. My purse went flying, contents scattering across the concrete. Lipstick, keys, phone, all skittering away into the darkness.

“That wasn’t very nice.” The first man’s voice was rough with pain and rage, his eyes still streaming. “Hold her.”

Strong hands gripped my arms, wrenching them behind my back. I fought, kicking, scratching, but they were too strong. Professional. Trained. My bare feet scraped against the concrete as they dragged me backward, away from the elevator, away from any chance of escape.

“Our employer said you might be difficult.” The first man wiped his streaming eyes, blinking hard. “Said you needed to learn your place.”

Rose. This had Rose written all over it. Her parting shot, making sure I understood just how powerless I really was.

“If you’re going to kill me,” I spat, “at least have the guts to look me in the eyes.”

He laughed. “Kill you? No, no. Just a message. A reminder of what happens to people who don’t know when to let go.”

The first punch caught me in the stomach, driving the air from my lungs. I doubled over, gasping, but the men holding me kept me upright. Forced me to stay standing.

“See, some people don’t understand their role in life.” Another blow, this one to my ribs. Sharp, brutal. I felt something crack. “Some people need to be taught...”

He hit me again. And again. My ribs. My stomach. Each impact worse than the last.

I tasted blood, copper and salt flooding my mouth. My vision blurred, tears mixing with the mascara running down my cheeks. But I wouldn’t cry out. Wouldn’t give Rose the satisfaction.

“Not talking now, are we?” He grabbed my face, fingers digging into my jaw. “Where’s all that fire from earlier? All those brave words?”

I spat blood at him.

His face twisted. “Wrong answer.”

The next punch caught me across the face. My head snapped to the side, stars exploding behind my eyes. Blood poured from my nose, hot and thick.

“Hold her tighter,” he ordered.

The hands on my arms squeezed harder, grinding bone against bone. I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming.

“Your sister wanted us to be thorough.” Another punch to my stomach. “Make sure you understood the message.”

My knees tried to buckle but they held me up. Forced me to take it. To feel every blow.

He hit me again. My ribs. The same spot. The crack was louder this time, followed by white-hot agony that stole what little breath I had left.

“She said you were stubborn.” His fist connected with my side. “Said you never knew when to quit.”

Blood dripped onto my ruined dress. Each breath sent knives through my chest. My vision kept fading in and out, darkness creeping at the edges.

“Please...” The word slipped out. Weak. Broken.

“Please what?” He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face. “Please stop? Please don’t hurt you anymore?”

Another blow. This one to my kidney. Pain exploded through my back, radiating out in waves.

“You should have thought about that before you decided to fight.” His voice was cold. Clinical. Like he was commenting on the weather. “Before you thought you could take on people with real power.”

He grabbed my hair, yanked my head back. Made me look at him through swollen eyes.

“Your sister owns you. Your family owns you. And the sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be.”

I tried to speak but blood filled my mouth. Choked me.

“What was that?” He pulled harder on my hair. “I couldn’t hear you.”

More blood. More pain. Everything hurt. Everything burned.

He let go of my hair and stepped back. For a moment, I thought it was over. That they’d leave me here, broken but alive.

Then his fist caught me in the face again. Harder this time. Brutal.

My vision went white. Then red. Then nothing.

The hands holding me were the only thing keeping me upright. My legs wouldn’t work anymore. Wouldn’t hold my weight.

“I think she’s learned her lesson.” One of the men holding me sounded uncertain.

“Not yet.” The first man’s voice was ice. “One more. Make sure it sticks.”

He drew back his fist.

“That’s enough.”

The voice cut through the garage like a whip crack. Female. Authoritative.

My attackers tensed. Through swollen eyes, I saw dark figures emerging from the shadows. Men in suits, moving with military precision. And behind them...

A woman. Tall, elegant, probably in her fifties but with an ageless quality about her. She wore a black designer suit that probably cost more than my car, her silver hair swept into a perfect chignon.

But it was her eyes that caught me. Sharp, intelligent, and oddly... familiar.

“Ma’am,” one of my attackers started, his voice suddenly uncertain, “our employer...”

“Is about to have a very bad day.” The woman’s voice was ice. Pure command. “Release her. Now.”

The hands holding me disappeared. I slumped forward, unable to stand. Pain shot through every part of my body as I hit the concrete. Cold. Hard. But better than being held up for more punches.

“Secure them.” The woman’s command sent her men moving. My attackers didn’t even try to run. They knew better. Knew they were outmatched.

She walked toward me, heels clicking on concrete. Designer shoes. Probably cost more than my monthly rent.

“Camille Lewis.” Not a question. She knew exactly who I was.

I tried to push myself up, to maintain some dignity despite my split lip and torn dress, the blood pooling beneath me. My arms shook, gave out. I collapsed back onto the cold concrete.

“Do I know you?” My voice came out wrong. Thick. Slurred.

Her eyes softened, just slightly. Like she was seeing something, someone else in my face.

“No.” She gestured, and more men appeared with a medical kit. “But I knew someone very much like you, once. Someone who also had to learn the hard way about trust and betrayal.”

The world was getting fuzzy around the edges. Blood dripped steadily onto the concrete, forming a dark pool. Each breath sent knives through my ribs. My face felt wrong. Swollen. Not mine anymore.

“Who...” I swayed, even lying down the world seemed to tilt. Darkness creeping in. “Who are you?”

She knelt beside me, careful not to touch my injuries. This close, I could smell her perfume, something expensive, unique. Something that tickled at the edges of my memory.

“Someone who’s been watching you for a very long time, Camille.” Her voice seemed to come from far away. “Someone who’s going to help you become everything they tried to prevent.”

The darkness was winning now. Taking over. Pulling me under.

But before it took me completely, I heard her last words, soft but clear:

“After all... you look just like my daughter.”

Then nothing but black.