Chapter 6 - Camille at the Gate
Camille entered the Ferraro house without her mask of superiority.
That frightened Delphine more than arrogance would have.
Her younger sister’s hair was wet from rain. Mascara had smudged beneath one eye. She wore a cream coat over evening clothes and held no purse.
Rosa led her into the sitting room.
Camille looked at Casius first, then Delphine.
“I need protection.”
Delphine remained standing.
“From whom?”
Camille swallowed.
“Dad.”
The answer landed badly.
Sterling Bowmont had controlled his daughters through money, embarrassment, silence, and fear.
But Delphine had never seen Camille afraid of him.
Camille had always been the chosen one.
The polished one.
The daughter whose photographs stayed on the walls.
“What happened?” Casius asked.
Camille’s gaze flicked toward him.
“Can we speak without staff?”
“Gideon stays.”
“He’s staff.”
“No. He’s Gideon.”
Gideon did not react.
Camille looked annoyed for half a second.
Good.
Some of herself was still present.
She sat.
“I heard Dad and Matteo arguing.”
Casius’s expression did not change.
“When?”
“Tonight. In Dad’s study.”
“About what?”
“You.”
Camille looked at Delphine.
“And her.”
Delphine crossed her arms.
“Say it.”
Camille’s eyes filled.
“I didn’t know about the fire.”
“You knew there was a fire.”
“I knew what they told me.”
“You repeated what they told you for eleven years.”
“That isn’t the same as knowing.”
“No. It’s just easier.”
Casius did not interrupt.
This belonged to the sisters.
Camille’s face crumpled, then hardened again.
“Dad said if you found the ledger, Matteo would handle it the way he handled Casius.”
Silence.
Gideon’s hand moved toward his phone.
Casius remained still.
“Exact words,” he said.
Camille closed her eyes.
“Matteo said, ‘You told me the girl was broken enough to keep quiet.’ Dad said, ‘She was until you people brought her into that house.’ Then Matteo said, ‘If she found the ledger, I’ll handle her the way I handled Ferraro.’”
Delphine felt cold.
Not surprise.
Confirmation.
Sometimes confirmation was worse.
Casius asked, “Did they see you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why come here?”
Camille laughed shakily.
“Because apparently the corpse that breathes has better security than my father.”
The old insult entered the room.
Camille heard it too.
Her face changed.
“I’m sorry.”
Casius looked at her.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“For the words or because you need help?”
She flinched.
“Both.”
“Better answer.”
Delphine turned away.
She wanted anger to remain simple.
Camille had made that impossible by arriving frightened.
“Why did Dad hide Delphine?” Camille asked suddenly.
Delphine turned back.
“You know why.”
“No. I know what Mom said. That the press was cruel after the fire. That you became unstable. That you didn’t want people to see you.”
Delphine laughed without humor.
“I begged to go back to school.”
Camille stared.
“What?”
“I begged. Dad said cameras would make me worse. Mom said strangers would stare. They moved me to tutors and told everyone I preferred privacy.”
Camille went pale.
Delphine continued.
“I applied to Tulane at eighteen. Dad withdrew the application before the deadline.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
That was the most painful part.
Camille had not needed to know.
The family protected her innocence by spending Delphine’s freedom.
Casius spoke quietly.
“Camille, if what you heard is true, you cannot go home tonight.”
“My things—”
“Can be replaced.”
“My phone is there.”
“Good. Leave it there.”
She looked at him.
“You think they’d track me?”
“I think assuming they wouldn’t is lazy.”
Camille nodded.
Gideon arranged a secure room in the guest wing.
Before she left, Camille stopped in front of Delphine.
“I used to laugh because I thought if I laughed first, people would look at you and not at me.”
Delphine’s jaw tightened.
“That is not an apology.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
Camille’s eyes filled again.
“I don’t know how to fix what I did.”
“You don’t.”
Camille looked wounded.
Delphine continued.
“You stop doing it. You tell the truth. You accept that I may never make you feel better about yourself.”
Casius watched both women.
Camille nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
After she left, Delphine sat on the sofa.
Her hands were shaking.
Casius rolled closer.
He did not touch her.
Not yet.
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
“He let them lock me in that warehouse.”
“We don’t know that.”
“He knew enough afterward to bury it.”
“Yes.”
She pressed her palms together.
“Eleven years.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
Her voice broke.
Casius took the blow without defending himself.
“You’re right.”
That stopped her.
He continued.
“I know twenty months. I know what it is to replay one night until the night becomes a country you live in. I don’t know eleven years.”
Delphine looked at him.
He held out his hand.
Not to pull.
Not to rescue.
An offer.
She took it.
Her fingers closed around his.
Casius felt the callus again.
The proof that while her family hid her, she had built a profession with her own hands.
“They thought we were both finished,” he said.
Delphine wiped at her cheek with her free hand.
“They were wrong.”
“Yes.”
“What do we do now?”
“Nothing dramatic.”
She almost laughed.
“That sounds unlike you.”
“We collect proof. We protect Camille. We make Matteo believe we know less than we do.”
“And Sterling?”
Casius’s eyes hardened.
“Your father has spent eleven years controlling what people know about you.”
He leaned closer.
“Let’s see how he likes uncertainty.”
The next morning, Salvatore arrived before breakfast.
He listened to Camille’s recorded statement.
Then he looked at Casius.
“The table meets in eighteen days.”
“I know.”
“If Matteo is exposed before then, the captains will fracture.”
“They are already fractured.”
“If you accuse him without proof, they choose him out of fear.”
Casius smiled coldly.
“Then we won’t accuse him.”
Salvatore looked at Delphine.
“What will you do?”
She placed the burned ledger page on the table.
“We’ll make him explain himself.”
The old man’s eyebrows rose.
For the first time, he looked at Delphine not as the daughter used to settle a debt, but as a player at the table.
“Mrs. Ferraro,” he said, “I believe New Orleans has underestimated you.”
Delphine looked at Casius.
“So has everyone.”
Casius squeezed her hand once beneath the table.
May you like
Not because she needed reassurance.
Because he agreed.
