Chapter 4 Four
Valentina POV
The way she said my name made my skin crawl. “You know who I am.”
“I’d be worried if I didn’t.” Her gaze drifted over me. “Julian talks about you enough.”
My stomach dropped. “So… you’re Camille.”
“The one and only,” she said, smiling
I looked past her into the apartment.
Camille folded her arms, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Well… this is unexpected.”
“You knew I’d come?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I hoped you would.”
My brows pulled together. “You hoped I’d find out your affair with my husband?”
She laughed. “Oh, sweetheart.” Her eyes swept over me. “Sooner or later, wives always do.”
The words hit me like a slap. “So you don’t even deny it.”
“Should I?” she said, smiling shamelessly
I stared at her. “You feel no shame? No guilt?”
She tilted her head. “For what? Loving someone?”
“He’s married!” I said, trying not to help
“Well… we don’t choose who we fall in love with, do we?”
My jaw clenched. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“I did.” She didn’t even blink.
“And that doesn’t bother you?” I asked, stunned by the sheer audacity of the woman standing in front of me.
Camille smiled. “I have nothing to be ashamed of.”
She stepped aside, leaving the apartment door open. “Come in.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Suit yourself.” She leaned against the frame. “We can have this conversation where the neighbors can hear.”
I didn’t move. I just stared at her for another second, searching for even the smallest hint of remorse.
I found none. Then I walked inside.
She smiled again. “I thought so.”
Camille closed the apartment door behind us with a soft click.
The sound echoed through the room.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked casually as she walked toward the open kitchen.
“I didn’t come here for a drink.”
“No.” She laughed. “You came for answers.”
I watched her lift the glass to her lips as though we were two old friends catching up instead of two women standing in the wreckage of my marriage.
She took a slow sip before setting the bottle on the counter.
“So,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
I stared at her. “The truth.”
She smiled. “That depends. Which version?”
“All of them.”
She laughed under her breath. “You really don’t know your husband as well as you think you do.”
My hands curled into fists. “How long?”
She didn’t pretend to understand.
She looked down at her wine, swirling it around the glass before answering.
“Almost four years.”
The room tilted.
“Four years ?” My voice cracked. “You’ve been seeing my husband for four years?”
“Yes.”
“And you were both just… okay with that?”
Camille shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly the plan.”
“Stop.”
She frowned. “What, you want to hear every version?”
“Don’t stand there and make it sound romantic.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
She looked me straight in the eye. “Tell you the truth.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “The truth?” I repeated. “The truth is you knowingly slept with a married man.”
“The truth,” she corrected calmly, “is that I fell in love with him.”
“And he fell in love with you?”
Her silence answered for her. I felt something inside me crack. “Fuck!.”I shook my head.
“Nah … this has to be a lie.”
“Whatever helps you sleep, Val.”
“This…..”
“He told you he works late every Thursday, didn’t he?”She said, cutting me off.
I didn’t answer.
“He told you business dinners couldn’t be avoided.”
I could feel my chest hurting
She smiled coldly. “Except he was usually here.”
Every word landed like a sword stabbing my heart.
I remembered every Thursday I’d eaten dinner alone. Every anniversary dinner he’d cut short because of an emergency meeting. Every late-night phone call I’d excused because he was building a future for us.
For us.
God… how stupid had I been?
Camille watched the realization spread across my face. “You really had no idea.”
I looked up, anger burning inside of me. “You’re enjoying this.”
She was quiet for a moment.“No,” she said softly. “I'm sick of it. Why should I be the one hiding?”
My laugh came out bitter. “So you decided to destroy my marriage instead.”
“It was already broken.” She said, taking a sip from her glass
“You don’t get to say that,” I said, my voice slightly raised
“I think I do.”
“What gives you that right?”
“Because I’ve seen the version of Julian you haven’t.”
I stepped closer. “You don’t know anything about my husband.”
Her eyes met mine without fear. “I know he laughs more with me.”
I froze.
“He tells me things he never tells you.”
My breathing quickened.
“He says he doesn’t have to pretend around me.”
“Stop.”
“He says you’re more business partner than wife.”
“Stop,” I said, my voice shaking
“He says he can’t remember the last time the two of you were actually happy.”
“I said stop!” The words echoed through the apartment. Camille’s smile disappeared.
Then, after a long silence, she said quietly, “At least I know how to ride his cock way more than you ever could.
My hand moved before I could stop it.
The slap cracked across the room.
Camille’s head snapped to the side. The wine glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.
The room fell silent. Camille stayed exactly where she was, her head turned to the side. A strand of blonde hair had fallen across her face.
Slowly, she lifted a hand and touched her cheek. When she looked back at me, the smile was gone.
“You slapped me.”
“I should’ve done worse.”
A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
“You bitch! It's not my fault if Julian loves me!”
My chest rose and fell with every uneven breath.
“Don’t you dare say his name.”
“Why?” she asked, her voice suddenly cold. “Because hearing it from me makes this real?”
“You're one shameless whore!”
“ This whore …” She took a step closer. “Your husband can't get over honey.”
I stared at her. “He had a choice every single Thursday, Valentina.”Another step. “And every single time…”She stopped inches away. “…he chose me.”
I couldn’t breathe. Then she reached for the knife block.
I frowned, confused for a split second. Then I watched her wrap her fingers around the handle of a chef’s knife.
My blood ran cold. She turned back to face me, the blade hanging loosely at her side.
“I’ve been patient long enough,” she said, her smile returning. “The only thing standing between Julian and me…”
She lifted the knife. “…is you.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I stared at the knife in her hand, convinced she couldn’t possibly be serious. “Camille…” My voice came out barely above a whisper. “Put the knife down.”
She laughed. “Why?” She twirled it carelessly between her fingers. “Afraid?”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“No.” She took another step. “I finally found it.”
“Listen to yourself. This is crazy.”
“I have been doing that.” Her smile widened. “For months.”
I instinctively backed away until my lower back hit the kitchen island.
There was nowhere else to go. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Oh, trust me,” she said coldly. “ I do.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then she rushed at me. I gasped and grabbed her wrist just before the knife came down.
The blade stopped inches from my shoulder. “Let go!” she screamed.
“You’ll kill me!”
“That’s the point!”
Panic exploded through me. I pushed against her arm with everything I had, trying to force the knife away from us.
She was stronger than I expected. We stumbled sideways, crashing into the edge of the counter.
A bowl smashed against the floor.
The knife slipped. She caught it again.
I grabbed her wrist with both hands.
She drove forward. I pushed back.
Neither of us noticed the puddle of spilled wine beneath our feet. Her heel slid. So did mine.
We lost our balance at the same time. The knife twisted between us. There was a dull, sickening sound.
Camille froze. Her eyes widened.
For a second, she looked almost… confused.
Then she slowly lowered her gaze.
So did I. The knife was buried in her stomach.
My hands fell away from the handle as if it had burned me.
Camille staggered backward, both hands flying to her stomach
Her eyes dropped to the knife buried deep inside her.
A strangled gasp escaped her lips. “You…”
Blood seeped between her fingers as she took another unsteady step.
I reached for her.”Camille—” She stumbled backward. Then she collapsed onto the kitchen floor with a sickened backward
“No…” I rushed to her side, dropping to my knees so hard they slammed against the tile. “No, no, no…”
My trembling hands pressed against the wound, but the blood wouldn’t stop.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please don’t do this.”
She didn’t answer. “Camille?”
I shook her gently. Nothing. With shaking fingers, I searched for a pulse. My heart lurched into my throat. The room spun as I stared at the blood covering my hands.
A sob tore from my chest.
“Oh, God…”I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I just kept staring at her lifeless body. “I…” My voice cracked. She's dead.”
