Chapter 13 - Camilla’s LieCamilla Ashford understood audiences better than truth.
Truth required documents.
Audiences required emotion.
So she gave them emotion.
She sat in a pale hospital bed with soft lighting, no visible machines, no doctor in frame, and just enough weakness in her voice to make strangers feel protective.
“I never wanted to say any of this,” she whispered.
The live stream had over ninety thousand viewers now.
Then one hundred twenty.
Then two hundred.
Adeline stood frozen in Belladonna House’s kitchen while Marisol cast the stream onto a wall screen in the study. Enzo stood with both hands on the back of a chair, so still he looked carved.
Lucia sat down slowly.
Detective Ellison watched from speakerphone.
Camilla held up a document.
“This is a payment record from Marchetti Holdings to Helen Croft.”
Adeline’s heart stopped.
The comments moved too fast to read.
OMG.
The maid lied?
This is crazy.
Team Camilla.
Wait for proof.
Camilla wiped a tear.
“Helen Croft was not an innocent whistleblower. She was being paid by the Marchettis to create false evidence against my family.”
Adeline shook her head.
“No.”
Enzo turned.
“Do you know anything about this?”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“No, my mother would never—”
Marisol lifted a hand.
“Let her finish. Liars reveal structure.”
On screen, Camilla continued.
“When Sofia Marchetti died, the Marchetti family needed someone to blame. They targeted my mother because she was powerful and convenient.”
Lucia whispered, “Vile girl.”
Camilla’s voice lowered.
“Enzo grew up believing my family was dangerous. But the truth is, his own family has been using women like Adeline for decades.”
Adeline felt sick.
Camilla was doing exactly what Beatrice had done to Helen.
Take the truth.
Break its spine.
Make it crawl in the opposite direction.
Then Camilla looked into the camera with devastating softness.
“I made mistakes last night. I was emotional. I reacted badly when Miss Croft snatched my glass. But I did not poison anyone. I did not set a fire. And I will not allow a maid with a family vendetta to destroy my life.”
The word maid appeared everywhere in the comments.
Maid.
Maid.
Maid.
Enzo reached for the remote and muted the stream.
The room fell silent.
Adeline’s breathing sounded too loud.
Marisol looked at Enzo.
“Pull the payment records.”
“Already happening.”
Lucia turned to Adeline.
“Child—”
Adeline stepped back.
“Did your family pay my mother?”
“No,” Enzo said.
But he answered too quickly.
Adeline heard it.
Fear before fact.
Marisol’s phone buzzed.
She checked it.
Her face shifted.
“What?”
She looked up.
“There was a payment.”
The floor vanished.
Adeline grabbed the edge of the table.
Enzo said, “From whom?”
“Marchetti Holdings. Three years ago. Fifty thousand dollars.”
Adeline’s ears rang.
Lucia stood.
“That is impossible.”
Marisol kept reading.
“Authorized through a legacy discretionary account.”
Enzo’s face went white.
“Whose?”
Marisol looked at Lucia.
The old woman slowly sat back down.
“No.”
Enzo’s voice sharpened.
“Nonna.”
Lucia covered her mouth.
“I didn’t know.”
“Whose account?”
Marisol answered.
“Lucia’s.”
Adeline took another step back.
Enzo turned to his grandmother.
Lucia shook her head, tears rising.
“I never paid Helen. I swear to you.”
Adeline wanted to believe her.
She did.
But belief had failed her family before.
“My mother died with eviction notices on the table,” Adeline said. “If she had fifty thousand dollars, where was it?”
Marisol’s eyes sharpened.
“Exactly.”
Enzo looked at her.
“What?”
“That payment may have been created after the fact.”
“Fabricated?”
“Or diverted. We need bank trails.”
Adeline wrapped her arms around herself.
Camilla’s live stream continued silently on the wall, her perfect mouth moving around lies.
A text arrived on Adeline’s phone.
Unknown number.
Still want the truth?
Attached was an address.
Then another message.
Come alone.
Enzo saw her face.
“What is it?”
She hid the phone instinctively.
He noticed.
“Adeline.”
She looked at him.
In his eyes was concern.
But also control.
She hated that she could not yet tell the difference.
“I need air.”
“You’re not going outside alone.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
He went still.
The room did too.
Adeline walked out before anyone could stop her.
The hallway was empty.
Her steps quickened.
Then quicker.
She reached the garden and finally breathed.
Cold air filled her lungs.
The sky had darkened.
Belladonna House rose behind her like a palace built from secrets.
She looked at the message again.
Still want the truth?
Come alone.
The address was familiar.
Not because she had been there.
Because her mother had written it on a folder.
Voss Media Storage.
The same media company that published the first false article.
Camilla was baiting her.
Adeline knew that.
She also knew something else.
If she showed Enzo, he would surround her with guards, lawyers, plans, and permission.
By then, whatever truth waited at that address would be gone.
Her mother’s voice rose in memory.
Do not trust first answers.
Adeline turned toward the service gate.
She made it ten steps before Enzo’s voice stopped her.
“Don’t.”
She closed her eyes.
Of course.
She turned.
He stood beneath the garden lights, no coat, sleeves rolled, expression unreadable.
“I’m going,” she said.
“I know.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“I know that too.”
That surprised her.
He walked closer but stopped several feet away.
“I’m asking you not to go alone.”
She laughed once.
“You don’t ask. You command.”
“I’m learning.”
The honesty disarmed her.
Adeline looked away.
“My mother’s name is being destroyed again.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. Your family name survives everything. Mine barely survived one accusation.”
Enzo absorbed that.
Then he said, “You’re right.”
She looked at him.
He continued.
“I don’t know what it means to have a name people can erase easily. But I know what it means to have the dead misused by the living.”
Adeline looked at her phone.
“I can’t lose this chance.”
“Then don’t.”
“What?”
“Go. But take Ellison.”
“No police. It said alone.”
“Then take me.”
“That is the opposite of alone.”
“Not if I stay out of sight.”
She almost smiled despite everything.
“You think you are subtle?”
“No.”
“At least you know.”
His mouth flickered.
Then grew serious.
“Adeline, Camilla wants you isolated. Angry. Doubting everyone. That is when people make mistakes.”
“She just showed a payment from your grandmother’s account.”
“And we will prove what it is.”
“What if you can’t?”
He stepped closer.
“Then we tell the truth anyway.”
The service gate opened behind them.
Both turned.
A figure stepped through wearing a dark hood.
Security moved instantly, but the figure raised both hands.
“Please,” a woman said. “I need to speak to Miss Croft.”
Enzo’s guards grabbed her before she reached the path.
The hood fell back.
Adeline gasped.
“Mrs. Vale?”
Agnes Vale, the missing housekeeper, looked destroyed.
Eyes swollen.
Face pale.
Hands shaking.
“Please,” Agnes whispered. “I didn’t know they would set the fire.”
Enzo’s face became stone.
Agnes looked at Adeline.
“Camilla lied online. The payment was real, but not to your mother.”
Adeline could barely speak.
“What?”
Agnes sobbed.
“They used Helen’s name. The money went to me.”
Lucia stood in the doorway behind Enzo, hand over her heart.
Agnes sank to her knees on the wet garden path.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Beatrice made me do it.”
Enzo’s voice was cold.
“Get up.”
Agnes shook her head.
“Please, Mrs. Marchetti. They had my son.”
Lucia began to cry.
Adeline stepped forward slowly.
“Why use my mother’s name?”
Agnes looked at her.
“Because dead women can’t dispute bank records.”
The sentence hit like a slap.
Marisol appeared behind Lucia with Detective Ellison on speakerphone.
“Agnes,” Marisol said, “you need to say that again.”
Agnes looked up.
The cameras were gone.
The reporters were gone.
No audience.
No performance.
Only the truth.
Agnes whispered, “Beatrice Ashford paid me through a false record in Helen Croft’s name. She said if anyone ever found Sofia’s journal, they would use the payment to make Helen look bought.”
Adeline’s eyes filled.
Her mother had not lied.
Not even in death.
Enzo looked at Marisol.
“Record everything.”
Agnes held out a flash drive.
“I brought proof.”
Adeline stared at it.
“What is on there?”
Agnes looked toward the gates.
Fear swallowed her face.
“Camilla’s real call.”
Enzo stepped forward.
“What call?”
Agnes’s voice shook.
“The call from last night. When she said the glass was supposed to make Lucia collapse before the announcement.”
The garden went silent.
Adeline whispered, “Why?”
Agnes looked at Enzo.
“Because if Lucia collapsed, Enzo would sign the emergency family authorization papers Beatrice prepared.”
Lucia nearly fell.
Enzo caught her.
Marisol said, “What papers?”
Agnes closed her eyes.
“Papers giving Camilla access to the trust after the wedding.”
Enzo’s face darkened.
Adeline understood.
The glass had never been only about silence.
It was about money.
Power.
Control.
And if Adeline had not taken it, Lucia might have collapsed in front of everyone, Camilla would have played grieving fiancée, and Enzo would have signed away the keys to his own empire before midnight.
Agnes looked at Adeline.
“You saved more than her life.”
Adeline looked toward the mansion.
May you like
On the wall screen inside, Camilla was still crying for the world.
But outside, in the cold garden, her lie had begun to die.
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