Chapter 3 - The Bride at Ardan House
Adrien drove.
Camille protested exactly twice.
The third time, he looked at her and said, “You can stay in the car or stay in your apartment.”
She fastened her seat belt.
That settled it.
His bride, Celeste Laurent, had spent eighteen months inside Adrien’s world without ever seeming intimidated by it.
Beautiful, educated, socially polished, and from a family with enough money that marrying Adrien could not easily be dismissed as ambition, Celeste had seemed logical.
That word bothered Camille now.
Logical.
Adrien approached marriage the way he approached acquisitions.
Compatibility.
Family stability.
Shared expectations.
Minimal surprises.
Camille had organized the engagement dinner.
She had negotiated the cathedral schedule.
She had personally tasted twelve cakes because Adrien had canceled the tasting for an emergency meeting.
Celeste had laughed.
“You’re practically marrying him for me.”
Camille had smiled.
She had gone home and cried for precisely eleven minutes.
Then she had opened her laptop and finished the seating chart.
Adrien never knew.
He was not supposed to.
Ardan House stood dark when they arrived.
Camille’s contractor’s lockbox hung open.
Adrien saw it first.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Camille.”
“It’s my building.”
“Your commitment to that sentence is becoming irritating.”
“Good.”
He called Tomas.
Security vehicles were six minutes away.
Adrien entered anyway.
Camille followed.
The renovation lights were on inside.
Plastic sheets hung over furniture.
Dust coated the floors.
“Celeste?” Adrien called.
No answer.
They found her in the ballroom.
She stood before the old fireplace, holding a crowbar.
Camille stopped.
Celeste turned.
Shock crossed her face.
Then anger.
“What is she doing here?”
Camille almost laughed.
Adrien did not.
“What are you doing here?”
Celeste dropped the crowbar.
“I can explain.”
“Start.”
Her gaze moved to Camille.
“Alone.”
“No.”
“Adrien.”
“No.”
Celeste’s composure cracked.
“My father told me about this house.”
Camille frowned.
“Why would Henri Laurent know about my lease?”
“Because he knew Evelyn Ward.”
Adrien stepped closer.
“How?”
Celeste looked toward the fireplace.
“They were partners.”
That changed everything.
Celeste explained that Henri Laurent had invested in Evelyn’s company eighteen years earlier. After Evelyn died, he withdrew and buried the connection.
Two weeks ago, Celeste found correspondence in her father’s safe.
One letter mentioned Viktor Kovac.
Another mentioned a ledger.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to.”
Camille heard the irony.
Adrien did too.
Apparently everyone in his life was going to tell him things eventually.
“When?”
“After the wedding.”
Adrien laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
Camille leaned against a covered table as dizziness moved through her.
Adrien noticed immediately.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Camille.”
Celeste watched him guide Camille into a chair.
Something wounded crossed her face.
Camille saw it.
She wished she hadn’t.
Celeste turned away.
“My father received a message yesterday saying the house had been leased. He panicked.”
“To Camille specifically?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Adrien looked at the fireplace.
“Show me.”
Celeste pointed to the wooden molding.
Camille remembered Elias’s photograph.
The panel.
Adrien pressed along the edge.
Nothing.
Camille removed the brass key.
There was a tiny keyhole beneath one decorative rosette.
The key fit.
A click.
The panel opened.
Inside sat a metal box.
Celeste whispered, “Oh my God.”
Adrien removed it.
The brass key opened that too.
Inside were three envelopes, an old cassette tape, photographs and a ledger.
Adrien reached for the ledger.
Camille saw the writing on the first envelope.
ADRIEN KOVAC.
The second:
HENRI LAURENT.
The third made her heart stop.
CAMILLE ARDEN.
Adrien looked at her.
“That was written eighteen years ago.”
“I was twenty-one.”
“Did you know Evelyn?”
“No.”
He handed her the envelope.
Camille opened it.
One page.
She read silently.
Her hands began trembling.
“Camille?”
She gave him the letter.
Adrien read.
If Camille Arden ever comes to this house, tell her Marianne kept her promise. Tell her Ardan House was always supposed to become hers.
Camille whispered, “Marianne was my mother.”
Adrien looked up.
“You told me your mother died when you were twenty-two.”
“She did.”
“Did she know Evelyn?”
“Not that I knew.”
Celeste approached.
“What promise?”
Camille shook her head.
She genuinely did not know.
Headlights flooded the windows.
Adrien moved immediately.
“Tomas?”
“No,” Celeste whispered. “He drives black SUVs.”
The vehicle outside was silver.
A car door slammed.
Then another.
Adrien pulled Camille behind the stone fireplace.
Celeste grabbed his arm.
“My father.”
Henri Laurent entered the ballroom.
He was not alone.
Beside him walked a man Adrien had not seen since his father’s funeral.
His father’s former attorney.
Samuel Voss.
Adrien’s expression changed.
Samuel looked straight at the open compartment.
Then at Camille.
“You found Evelyn’s box.”
Adrien stepped forward.
Samuel smiled.
“Good.”
May you like
He reached inside his coat.
“And now Camille can finally learn why Viktor Kovac hired her six years ago.”
