Chapter 6 - The Message Christian Tried to Delete
Christian stared at his brother's name.
“No.”
I recognized the tone.
Not disbelief.
Refusal.
Alexander had been best man at our wedding.
He had toasted us.
He had hugged me afterward and called me the sister he'd never had.
“Call him,” I said.
Christian didn't move.
“Christian.”
He finally removed his phone.
Alexander answered on the second ring.
“Hey.”
Christian's voice was flat.
“Where are you?”
“Office.”
“Stay there.”
Pause.
“Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Julian Mercer.”
The silence lasted half a second too long.
Then Alexander laughed.
“What about him?”
Christian looked at me.
“You know him?”
“Everyone knows him. He's handling the acquisition.”
“Did you authorize an account seven months ago?”
“No.”
“Using my login?”
“What are you talking about?”
Rebecca whispered, “Ask about the video.”
Christian did.
Another pause.
Then:
“You should come here.”
“Why?”
“Because there are things you don't know.”
I almost smiled at the phrase.
Everyone seemed to have things we didn't know.
Christian ended the call.
“We're going.”
“No,” I said.
He frowned.
“You're not.”
“Camille—”
“This is your company and your brother. Handle it.”
He stared at me.
“You're staying?”
“Yes.”
“With Giselle?”
“I have work to do.”
The sentence carried more meaning than he realized.
Our marriage was over.
Whether paperwork had caught up yet didn't matter.
Christian seemed to understand.
His face tightened.
Then he nodded.
Rebecca went with him.
Giselle and I remained at the estate.
An hour earlier, that would have seemed absurd.
Now we sat across from each other at a table decorated for her wedding to my husband.
Neither of us touched the champagne.
Finally she said, “I'm sorry.”
I looked at her.
“For which part?”
Her eyes dropped.
“All of it.”
“That's broad.”
“I was cruel to you before I even knew about Christian.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted you to see my wedding because I thought it proved something.”
“What?”
“That I'd won.”
“Won what?”
She laughed sadly.
“I don't even know anymore.”
That was probably the most truthful thing she'd said.
I picked up my phone.
There were dozens of messages.
Old classmates.
Guests.
People asking what happened.
I ignored them.
One message was from Christian.
A draft photograph.
Not sent to me intentionally.
Or perhaps sent and deleted too late.
The notification preview remained.
I opened the chat.
Message deleted.
But I had seen enough.
A document.
At the top:
PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.
My name.
Christian's.
My pulse slowed.
Not quickened.
Slowed.
“What's wrong?” Giselle asked.
“Nothing.”
But something didn't fit.
Christian had claimed he intended to end our marriage.
Perhaps he had actually begun.
I checked the timestamp visible in the preview screenshot.
Four months earlier.
I searched county records.
No petition filed.
Draft only.
Why?
My phone rang.
Christian.
I answered.
“Alexander isn't here.”
“You said he was at the office.”
“He lied.”
“Where is he?”
“We don't know.”
“Christian, you deleted something.”
Silence.
“What?”
“A divorce petition.”
Another silence.
Giselle looked at me.
Finally Christian said, “I can explain.”
“Everyone can.”
“I had papers prepared.”
“Four months ago.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you file?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because every time I tried, I couldn't do it.”
I closed my eyes.
That wasn't romantic.
It was worse.
“You were planning a wedding with another woman.”
“I know.”
“While refusing to divorce me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I was a coward.”
At least he had stopped inventing prettier words.
“I wanted both versions of my life. The one with you, and the one where someone was always there.”
The honesty hurt.
But it also ended something.
Not my marriage.
That had ended at the altar.
It ended my need to understand.
There was no grand reason.
No deficiency in me.
No irresistible destiny with Giselle.
Christian wanted comfort without consequence.
Everything afterward grew from that weakness.
“Find your brother,” I said.
“Camille—”
“We'll discuss the divorce later.”
I ended the call.
Giselle stared at the table.
“He told me he'd filed.”
“Of course he did.”
“I feel stupid.”
“You made choices.”
She looked up.
“So did he.”
“Yes.”
“And you're not defending him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because loving someone doesn't require lying about what they did.”
She absorbed that.
My phone vibrated.
Carver.
“We've got movement.”
“What?”
“The access attempts stopped twenty minutes ago. Then someone tried wiping the Dupont Enterprise server.”
“Alexander?”
“Unknown.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
I stood.
“What did they target?”
“Financial records and communications with Mercer.”
I grabbed my cap.
Giselle stood too.
“Where are you going?”
“Dupont Enterprise.”
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
She held up her phone.
“You might want me.”
“Why?”
She turned the screen toward me.
A message from Alexander.
COME TO THE OFFICE ALONE.
Another followed.
IF CAMILLE LEARNS WHAT CHRISTIAN PROMISED US, EVERYTHING CHANGES.
I stared at it.
“What did Christian promise you?”
“Nothing.”
“Think.”
Her eyes moved.
Then widened.
“The house.”
“What?”
“He said after we married, the Palm Beach house would become ours.”
“That isn't legally possible without my agreement.”
“I didn't know that.”
“But Alexander might.”
My mind connected the pieces.
The house wasn't the prize.
My signature was.
Marriage.
Divorce.
Property transfer.
Company transfer.
Someone had been constructing documents around emotional chaos.
I called Christian.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Rebecca answered instead.
“Camille.”
“Where is Christian?”
“He left.”
My chest tightened.
“Where?”
“Alexander called him.”
“Did he say where?”
“No.”
Then Giselle's phone vibrated.
A location pin.
Alexander.
An abandoned Dupont storage facility near the waterfront.
Underneath:
BRING THE ORIGINAL ENVELOPE.
I looked at Giselle.
She looked at me.
Then another message appeared.
AND DON'T BRING CHRISTIAN'S WIFE.
Before either of us spoke, my own phone vibrated.
Christian.
One sentence.
CAMILLE, I FOUND ALEXANDER.
Then a second message began appearing.
May you like
HE TOLD ME WHO STARTED ALL OF THIS—
And stopped.
