章 8: Camille, What Will You Do?

"I need to find Ambrose and discuss this matter," Camille thought, her gaze sharp as she walked into the grand hall, scanning the crowd. The soft hum of conversation filled the air, but her focus remained unwavering, searching for the one person who could make sense of it all.

Finally, her eyes landed on him. Ambrose stood near a cluster of guests, his towering frame impossible to miss. Engaged in a lively conversation with a few influential attendees, his tone animated and confident as he shared a story. Camille couldn't catch all the details, but his warm laughter and undeniable charm stood out. Her brows twitched, arms crossed, and her lips tightened. Seems like he's having fun, she thought, her frown deepening.

She adjusted her posture, heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she approached him, each step deliberate and purposeful.

"Everything occurs just how I..." Ambrose began, but paused as his sharp eyes flicked toward Camille. He acknowledged her presence with a brief but subtle glance, not missing a beat in his conversation.

"I believe I've just found someone who will make this even more interesting," Ambrose said smoothly, nodding toward Camille. The guests turned, smiles forming at the sight of her.

Camille returned a polite, though slightly cool, smile. She felt their eyes on her, the curiosity of the crowd weighing on her, but her focus never wavered from Ambrose. As the guests exchanged pleasantries with her, Camille leaned in slightly, her voice lowering.

"I need to speak with you, privately," she whispered in his ear, the seriousness of her tone leaving no room for doubt. Ambrose's expression shifted just enough to show his interest, though he kept his smile in place.

"Well, of course," Ambrose replied smoothly, nodding toward the group. "Gentlemen, I do apologize, but it seems business calls." The guests, though slightly disappointed, nodded with understanding, casting Camille respectful glances before dispersing.

Ambrose gestured toward a quieter part of the hall, leading her there.

"Ambrose, you won't believe what I just found out," Camille said, catching his full attention.

"What did you find out?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

"You see..." she began, but was quickly interrupted when the attendant they had sent after Leone rushed into the hall, breathless and disheveled.

"I apologize for interrupting, but Young Master Leone... he left," the attendant stammered, still panting. "Before I could call him... he was gone."

Camille's grip on the windowsill tightened, her jaw clenching with fury. Leone had slipped away without a word, just when she was about to confront him.

Taking a deep, controlled breath, Camille turned to Ambrose, her voice low but steady. "We'll deal with it later. For now, it's nothing more than an inconvenience."

Ambrose, sensing her anger, didn't press the issue. He simply nodded, his face neutral, though his eyes darkened with unspoken thoughts. "Camille, calm down. You're being too harsh on him. Let's just leave him alone for now. You know what he's been through."

"It's been a year since it happened!" Camille snapped, her voice sharp. "He should be over it by now! He's acting out again — it's immature and inappropriate. I'll give him a piece of my mind when we head home."

Ambrose sighed tiredly and nodded, dismissing the attendant with a wave of his hand. Once the attendant left, he turned back to Camille. "What is it you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh, right. It's about our new daughter-in-law."

"Our daughter-in-law?" Ambrose repeated, confused.

"You remember the girl Mrs. Moore introduced as her maid? Well, she's our daughter-in-law now."

Ambrose was taken aback, momentarily stunned, before he regained his composure. "What do you plan on doing about it?"

Camille smirked, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "And why would I tell you?"

Ambrose chuckled nervously, fully aware of what his wife was capable of. That's why I asked... I hope she doesn't do anything too extreme.

"You are the matriarch of this family," Ambrose said, his tone conceding. "Do as you please. I will not stop you."

Camille raised an eyebrow, her gaze cool. "Even if you tell me not to, I still will do something."

The wedding was drawing to a close, and the atmosphere in the grand hall had shifted. Guests began to trickle out, their laughter and lively chatter fading into the cool night air. Evelina, standing just outside the main doors, prepared to leave. A sleek black limousine stood waiting for her, gleaming under the moonlight.

Beside her, Richard lingered, his posture stiff and rigid. He leaned in close, his voice low and cold as he delivered his parting words. His gaze, distant and calculating, made Evelina straighten her back.

"Don't mess up," he warned, the weight of his words sinking into the still night air. "Make sure you don't get thrown out."

Behind him, Claire stood, her gaze sharp and venomous. Her lips pressed into a tight line, but she didn't speak—her silence dripping with disdain.

Evelina, however, remained composed. A small, calculated smile flickered across her face as she lifted her veil for a brief moment, her eyes sparkling with a quiet defiance. The smile was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it carried a message—one that caught Claire off guard.

The older woman's eyes flashed with fury, but before she could snap, Evelina lowered her veil, once again concealing the fire in her gaze.

That wretched girl... Claire thought, her hand clenching into a fist. Just you wait. I will destroy you.

Just then, after the last of the guests left, Camille and Ambrose emerged from the hall. They walked towards the car park, their presence commanding and elegant, a power in their quiet strides.

Evelina, already near the car meant for her, paused, her hand lingering on the door handle as she watched them. Camille caught her eye and gestured for Ambrose to enter their car first. Ambrose nodded, slipping inside without a word. Camille, however, broke away from their car and approached Evelina's with an almost serene smile, though something about it felt slightly intimidating.

Evelina braced herself, readying for whatever Camille might say.

With a calculated grace, Camille leaned in closer to Evelina's ear. "I really enjoyed the tea I had the last time we met," she said, her voice smooth, but laced with an unsettling undertone. "I look forward to our next conversation tomorrow morning. I trust you'll have something warm prepared for me."

Evelina's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes widened, and panic surged through her. She knows I'm not Maya... Since when? The thought rattled her, but she quickly masked her alarm behind a calm exterior, trying to make sense of Camille's cryptic words. What does she want to talk about?

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, though it was more of a reflex than genuine amusement. "Of course," she replied, her voice steady despite the rising tide of tension inside her.