Chapter 5 Five
Valentina POV
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I stared at Camille lying on the kitchen floor.
I kept waiting for her to move, for her chest to rise, for her to gasp or scream or curse at me for what had just happened. She didn’t. Blood continued to spread beneath her body, staining the white tiles a deep, horrifying red. My stomach twisted violently as a sob escaped my lips.
“No…” I whispered, stumbling backward until my back hit the kitchen cabinets. “No… this can’t be happening.”
It was an accident…. She came at me. She had the knife.
I never meant for this to happen.
I pressed both hands over my mouth, trying to hold back another sob, but it escaped anyway. My entire body trembled as I looked around the apartment. The broken wine glass still glittered across the floor. The bottle of wine remained on the counter exactly where Camille had left it. Everything looked so normal, so painfully ordinary… except for the woman lying dead a few feet away from me.
My breathing became uneven as panic clawed its way through my chest. I couldn’t think. Every thought crashed into another until nothing made sense anymore. I had left the gala. I had lied to Julian. I had come here to confront the woman he was sleeping with, and now she was dead.
“Oh, God…” I whispered, my voice breaking. “What have I done?”
I forced myself onto my feet, but my knees almost gave out beneath me. My eyes found Camille again. She hadn’t moved. She wasn’t going to move. The reality of it struck me all over again, and tears blurred my vision.
“I’m sorry,” I cried softly. “I’m so sorry.” I kept apologizing if that alone could bring her back.
I couldn’t stay here.
The thought repeated itself over and over inside my head until it became the only thing I could focus on. I couldn’t breathe in this place anymore. Every corner of the apartment reminded me of what had happened. I turned toward the front door and somehow managed to open it with trembling hands before stepping into the hallway.
The corridor was empty. Thankfully, no one was around. It was past midnight.
I walked toward the elevator as quickly as my shaking legs would allow. The wait felt endless, and by the time the doors finally opened, I thought my heart might burst out of my chest. Inside the elevator, my reflection caught my attention. My mascara had run beneath my eyes, strands of hair had escaped my bun, and I looked pale… almost ghostly. I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.
The ride home passed in a blur. I answered the driver’s questions with nothing more than quiet nods, keeping my eyes fixed on the window while the city lights streaked past. Every time I blinked, I saw Camille falling. I heard the dull sound of the knife. I felt the warmth of her blood on my hands all over again.
By the time I reached home, my body had gone completely numb. The house was dark and quiet. Julian still wasn’t back from the gala. I closed the front door behind me and leaned against it, sliding slowly to the floor as another sob escaped my chest. Everything had happened so quickly that it still didn’t feel real.
After several minutes, I somehow found the strength to stand. My feet carried me upstairs on their own. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower before stepping beneath the hot water, still wearing my clothes. The water soaked through the fabric, running down my body, but it did nothing to stop the shaking. I closed my eyes, and there she was again. Camille’s smile. The knife. Her terrified eyes. Her body collapsing onto the floor.
My eyes flew open as I sucked in a sharp breath.
“No…” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. “Please…”
But there was no escaping it. No matter how tightly I shut my eyes… I could still see her.
I stood beneath the shower until the water turned cold. I didn’t know how much time had passed.
Minutes. Maybe hours.
The water dripped from my hair and clothes onto the bathroom floor while I stood there, unable to move. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Camille reaching for the knife. Every time I opened them, I expected to see blood running down my arms again.
A sob caught in my throat.
“It was an accident,” I whispered to myself. The words sounded unconvincing as they left my lips. I repeated them anyway. “It was nothing but an accident.”
Slowly, I reached up and turned off the shower. The sudden silence was almost unbearable. My wet clothes clung to my skin as I stepped out and caught my reflection in the mirror.
I looked… broken.
My eyes were swollen from crying. My mascara had long since disappeared, leaving dark shadows beneath my eyes. My hair hung in damp strands around my face.
I didn’t look like myself anymore. I looked like a stranger. My gaze drifted to my wedding ring.
Twelve years. Twelve years of loving Julian.
Twelve years of believing we had a marriage worth fighting for.
And now… Now another woman was dead because I had gone looking for the truth. I shouldn’t have done that.
My knees buckled beneath me. I sank onto the cold bathroom floor, wrapping my arms around myself as fresh tears spilled down my cheeks.
“I didn’t mean to…” I whispered. “I swear I didn’t.”
But there was no one there to hear me.
After what felt like forever, I forced myself to stand. My body moved on instinct as I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed.
Sleep never came. Every creak of the house made me jump. Every pair of headlights sweeping across the bedroom ceiling made my heart race.
I kept expecting to hear sirens.
Then suddenly a knock at the front door.
Someone calling my name. Then the bedroom door opened quietly.
It was Julian.
I immediately shut my eyes. His footsteps were slow as he crossed the room.
“Hey, honey, you awake?” he asked softly.
I didn’t answer. For a long moment, he simply stood there. Then I felt the mattress dip beneath his weight. His fingers brushed a strand of hair away from my face before the back of his hand rested gently against my forehead.
“How is the headache?” he murmured.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t leave the gala sooner,” he whispered. “Richard wouldn’t let me escape.”
A lump formed in my throat.
If he knew where I’d been… If he knew what I’d done… He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
“I hope you feel better in the morning, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. The word shattered something inside me. I waited until I heard the bedroom door close before opening my eyes.
The tears came silently. I turned onto my side, facing away from him, staring into the darkness until exhaustion finally pulled me under.
A loud knock echoed through the house.
Then another. My eyes flew open. For one blissful second, I didn’t remember. Then it all came rushing back.
Camille. The knife. The blood.
My breathing hitched. Beside me, Julian was already sitting up, still sleepy.
Another knock came, followed by the distant sound of the doorbell.
Julian frowned and glanced at the clock. “Who on earth is here this early?”
My heart stopped.
He climbed out of bed, but before he could leave the room, there was another knock—this time on our bedroom door.
It was Martha, our housekeeper.
“Mr. Wilder?” she called, her voice trembling. “The police are here.”
Every drop of blood drained from my face.
