Chapter 9 - The Confession
Camille buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with dry, jagged sobs that sounded more like panic than grief.
"He has copies of everything," Camille wept, her fingers clutching at her hair. "Not just the land titles. The medical files. The bank transfers. If I talk to the police, Matteo doesn't even have to kill me—he’ll just release the wire records showing I accepted fifty thousand dollars in hush money the week after father died. I’d spend twenty years in a federal penitentiary."
Vivian looked down at her sister, feeling a strange, hollow mixture of anger and profound pity. The golden girl of the family—the one who always got what she wanted—had been nothing more than a well-dressed hostage with a platinum collar.
"You aren't going to prison, Camille," Vivian said, her voice cutting through the sobs. "Neither am I. But we are going to finish this tonight."
"Finish it? How?" Camille looked up, her mascara smeared across her cheeks, her eyes wild with terror. "Matteo is coming back from Richmond in an hour. When he finds out you're here—"
"He won't find me here," Vivian interrupted, pulling the burner phone from her pocket and setting it on the vanity table. "He’s going to find both of us waiting for him in his study."
Before Camille could argue, the heavy front oak doors downstairs slammed open, echoing up through the high-ceilinged foyer. Footsteps—fast, heavy, and authoritative—sounded on the marble stairs. Not Viktor’s slow, measured tread. Matteo’s stride.
Camille froze, her hand flying to her mouth. "He’s back early."
The bedroom door didn't click; it burst open against the wall with a loud, splintering crack.
Matteo Draven stood in the doorway, his black overcoat dusted with sleet, his jaw set in a hard, dangerous line. His eyes swept the room, skipping past Camille and landing instantly on Vivian with a look of cold, predatory triumph.
"I told you," Matteo said softly, stepping into the room as the lock clicked shut behind him, "you don't walk out of my house, Vivian."
Vivian didn't flinch. She stepped forward, placing herself between Matteo and her trembling sister, her hand resting firmly over her swollen stomach.
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"I didn't walk out, Matteo," Vivian said, her voice ringing clear and steady through the quiet room. "I came back to collect."
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