Chapter 6 - Camilla’s First Night Without PowerCamilla Ashford spent her first night without power in a private interview room at the Chicago Police Department.
Not a cell.
Not yet.
Her attorneys made sure of that.
But the room was small, gray, and ugly.
That alone felt like punishment.
Camilla sat at the metal table still wearing her torn dignity and a champagne-colored gown worth more than a teacher’s yearly salary. Her mascara had dried beneath her eyes. Her engagement ring was gone. Her phone had been taken. Her mother was no longer beside her.
For the first time in her life, no one was standing between Camilla and consequence.
She hated the silence most.
At Belladonna House, silence obeyed her.
At charity galas, silence admired her.
In this room, silence watched her.
The door opened.
Detective Ellison entered with a folder.
Camilla straightened immediately.
“I want my mother.”
“You have attorneys.”
“I want my mother.”
Detective Ellison sat.
“That’s interesting. Most adults ask for counsel.”
Camilla glared.
“Do not patronize me.”
“I’m not. I’m observing.”
Camilla looked toward the mirror on the wall.
“Is Enzo watching?”
“No.”
The answer hit harder than she expected.
Detective Ellison noticed.
Camilla turned away.
“Good. I don’t want him here.”
“Of course.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you.”
But Camilla did not believe herself.
Enzo was supposed to come.
He was supposed to calm down, realize the scandal could destroy them both, and arrange a private solution. Men like Enzo did not hand family matters to police. They buried them behind money, loyalty, and closed doors.
That was why Camilla had chosen him.
Not because she loved him.
Because she thought his darkness would protect hers.
She had miscalculated.
Detective Ellison opened the folder.
“Let’s talk about the glass.”
Camilla leaned back.
“I already told you. I don’t know what was in it.”
“You said at Belladonna House that you didn’t mean for anyone to die.”
“I was hysterical.”
“You were specific.”
“I was attacked.”
“You struck Adeline Croft.”
“She stole from me.”
“She took a glass.”
“She humiliated me in front of everyone.”
Detective Ellison paused.
“Why did that bother you so much?”
Camilla stared at her.
“Excuse me?”
“Most people would be confused. Maybe annoyed. You dragged her into a corridor and hurt her.”
Camilla’s mouth tightened.
“She made me look foolish.”
“And that deserved punishment?”
Camilla said nothing.
Detective Ellison wrote something down.
“What is that?”
“Notes.”
“What notes?”
“Mine.”
Camilla laughed coldly.
“You think you understand women like me because you sit in rooms like this and ask questions?”
“No,” Ellison said. “I understand women like you because I’ve interviewed your maids.”
Camilla’s face hardened.
The detective continued.
“They always describe the same thing. You don’t become violent when you’re angry. You become violent when someone sees you clearly.”
Camilla’s hand twitched.
For one second, she imagined the crop in her hand again.
Then she imagined Enzo catching it.
Her fingers curled.
Detective Ellison saw.
“Where did the silver case come from?”
“My clutch.”
“What was inside?”
“Lip balm.”
“Try again.”
Camilla leaned forward.
“Detective, do you have any idea what will happen to you if you keep pretending this is a real case?”
Ellison closed the folder.
“No. Tell me.”
Camilla smiled slowly.
“My family funds half the institutions that give people like you awards at luncheons.”
“People like me don’t get invited to those luncheons.”
“That’s your problem.”
“No,” Ellison said. “Tonight, it might be yours.”
For the first time, Camilla felt the floor tilt.
The detective stood.
“I’m going to give you advice I’m sure your attorneys already gave you.”
“I don’t need your advice.”
“Stop talking like your mother can save you.”
Camilla’s face went cold.
Detective Ellison walked to the door.
Then Camilla said, “Adeline Croft is not innocent.”
Ellison turned.
Camilla’s smile returned, smaller and sharper.
“You should look into her.”
“We are.”
“No. Really look.”
“What will we find?”
Camilla leaned back.
“A maid who just happened to get hired before my engagement party. A dead mother with a grudge. Stolen files. A letter sent to an old woman. And now Enzo Marchetti treating her like some wounded little angel.”
Her eyes glittered.
“Ask yourself who benefits.”
Detective Ellison studied her.
“From poisoning your fiancé’s grandmother?”
Camilla’s smile faltered.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No. You just implied the maid did it to get close to Enzo.”
“Didn’t she?”
Ellison opened the door.
“Goodnight, Miss Ashford.”
“Detective.”
Ellison paused.
Camilla’s voice dropped.
“You don’t know what Adeline’s mother found.”
That stopped her.
Camilla saw it and smiled.
“There are things in those files that your little maid will wish stayed buried.”
Detective Ellison turned slowly.
“Such as?”
Camilla looked at the mirror.
This time, she imagined Enzo watching.
She wanted him to hear this.
She wanted his perfect protective silence to crack.
“Ask Lucia Marchetti what happened at St. Agnes Clinic.”
Ellison said nothing.
Camilla continued.
“Ask her why Enzo’s mother died. Ask her why the Ashfords were paid to keep quiet. Ask her why Helen Croft got curious three years ago.”
Detective Ellison stepped back into the room.
“What do you know about Enzo’s mother?”
Camilla smiled.
“Enough.”
“Then say it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Camilla looked straight at the mirror.
“Because Enzo has to ask me himself.”
Detective Ellison’s expression hardened.
“He won’t.”
“He will.”
The detective left without answering.
But Camilla knew she had landed a blow.
Maybe not against the law.
Maybe not against the evidence.
But against Enzo’s heart.
That was better.
Across town, Enzo stood in his private study at Belladonna House while Lucia sat near the fireplace.
The mansion was nearly empty now.
The guests were gone.
The servants had been sent home with full pay.
Adeline was upstairs in a guest room, though she had argued fiercely against sleeping anywhere above the servants’ floor.
Enzo had not argued back.
He had simply told Lucia to handle it.
Adeline could refuse him.
She could not refuse Lucia.
Now Enzo poured two glasses of whiskey and left one untouched.
“Tell me about St. Agnes,” he said.
Lucia closed her eyes.
“Enzo.”
“No more.”
“It was thirty years ago.”
“No more.”
The fire snapped.
Lucia’s hand trembled on her cane.
“Your mother believed the Ashfords were using charity money to buy silence from hospital administrators.”
Enzo’s face did not move.
“She was collecting proof?”
“Yes.”
“And then she died.”
Lucia looked into the fire.
“The official report said accident.”
“And the unofficial truth?”
Lucia did not answer.
Enzo’s voice broke slightly.
“Nonna.”
The old woman looked at him then.
And in her eyes was the kind of sorrow that made even powerful men feel like children.
“I was told if I kept digging, I would lose you too.”
Enzo went still.
“Who told you?”
Lucia whispered the name.
“Beatrice Ashford.”
The glass in Enzo’s hand cracked.
Whiskey ran between his fingers.
He did not look down.
Lucia stood.
“That is why I hired Adeline. Not only because of the letter. Because when I saw Helen Croft’s name, I knew the past had come back.”
Enzo stared at the fire.
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
“Helen Croft.”
“Yes.”
“Adeline.”
Lucia nodded.
“The Ashfords have been burying women for a very long time.”
Upstairs, behind a half-open guest room door, Adeline stood frozen.
She had not meant to overhear.
She had only come to return the coat.
But now she held it against her chest, shaking.
Her mother had not just uncovered charity fraud.
She had uncovered the truth about Enzo Marchetti’s mother.
And that meant Adeline had not walked into Belladonna House by chance.
She had walked into the middle of a war that started before she was born.
Downstairs, Enzo said one final sentence.
Very calm.
Very quiet.
Very dangerous.
“Then we stop burying them tonight.”
Adeline closed her eyes.
Because she knew Camilla was right about one thing.
May you like
Some truths did not set people free.
Some truths opened graves.
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