The Accusation
The video of Camille’s trembling confession played on a loop in Rory’s thoughts. She hadn’t slept; the weight of the news kept her wide awake. Morning light filtered through her window, but it offered no comfort. Her mother’s fearstricken face haunted her. Camille had heard about Rossini, about the offshore accounts. She’d kept secrets—dangerous ones.
Rory couldn’t wait another second. She had to face her mother.
The Dumont family estate felt colder than normal as Rory stepped into its grand sitting room. Camille was perched on a loveseat, the picture of grace in a silk robe, sipping tea. Her calm was maddening.
“Aurélien,” Camille greeted with a faint smile, using Rory’s full name as she always did. “What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.”
Rory dismissed the pleasantries, her footsteps purposeful as she crossed the room. “We need to talk,” she said, her voice hard.
Camille raised an eyebrow, setting her cup down with careful grace. “You sound serious. What’s this about?”
Rory pulled the flash drive from her pocket, holding it up like a weapon. “This. And the movie of you talking about Rossini. Care to explain, Mother?”
For the first time, Camille’s calm mask cracked. Her eyes widened briefly before narrowing. “Where did you get that?”
“Does it matter?” Rory shot back. “I saw everything. The accounts, the transactions, your statement. You’ve been hiding things from me—from all of us. Why?”
Camille’s hands trembled as she rose from her seat, but she quickly calmed herself. “You don’t understand the sacrifices I’ve made to protect this family,” she said, her voice low and protective.
“Protect us?” Rory’s laugh was bitter. “By working with a criminal? By hiding money while our business fell apart?”
Camille’s gaze sharpened. “You think I wanted this? You think I had a choice? Rossini doesn’t negotiate. He controls. He threatened to destroy us if I didn’t comply.”
Rory’s chest tightened, rage and disbelief warring within her. “You should have told me. I could have helped.”
Camille’s laugh was hollow. “Helped? What could you have done, Rory? You were a child when this started. And even now, you’re in over your head.”
Rory stepped closer, her voice shaking with emotion. “I deserve the truth, Camille. I’m not a kid anymore. What else are you hiding?”
Camille’s silence stretched on, her eyes cloudy with something Rory couldn’t place. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders dropping as if the weight of her secrets had become too much to bear.
“You’re right,” Camille said softly. “You deserve to know. But be careful what you wish for, Aurélien. The truth isn’t as black and white as you think.”
Rory’s pulse quickened. “What do you mean?”
Camille paused, her eyes darting toward the door as if to ensure they were alone. “Max,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s not who you think he is.”
Rory’s breath hitched. “What are you talking about?”
Camille’s gaze locked onto hers, a mix of warning and sadness in her eyes. “Max may not be the monster you think he is, but don’t trust him either.”
The words hit Rory like a blow. She stared at her mother, trying to process the cryptic remark. “You’re not making any sense. If he’s not a monster, then what is he? Why did he marry me? What does he want?”
Camille’s lips pressed into a thin line. “There are things I can’t tell you. Things you need to find for yourself. But know this: Max isn’t just playing his own game. He’s playing everyone’s.”
Rory’s hands clenched at her sides. “You’re just like him,” she said, her voice shaking. “You keep me in the dark and expect me to trust you. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”
Camille’s face softened, her composure cracking. “Because I’m your mother. And everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.”
“Then prove it,” Rory challenged. “Tell me the truth. All of it.”
Camille took a deep breath, her hands shaking as she clasped them together. “I can’t. Not yet. But you have to believe me on this, Aurélien. Trust yourself. And most importantly, don’t trust Max.”
Rory left the house feeling more confused and betrayed than ever. Her mother’s vague warnings only added to the chaos swirling in her mind. The drive back to the house was a blur, her thoughts racing as she tried to piece everything together.
When she arrived, the house was eerily quiet. She made her way to her room, but the tension in the air was noticeable. Something felt off.
She set the flash drive on her desk, looking at it as if it held all the answers she desperately sought. Camille’s words repeated in her mind: Max isn’t just playing his own game. He’s playing everyone’s.
Rory’s anger boiled over. She slammed her hands onto the desk, a growl of anger escaping her lips. She was tired of being maneuvered, of being kept in the dark. If Max was playing a game, she was determined to beat him at it.
Hours later, as night fell, Rory found herself pacing the mansion’s grand hall. The weight of everything she’d learned pressed down on her, overwhelming in its intensity. She needed answers. And she needed them now.
She stopped suddenly as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. Turning, she saw Max emerging from the shadows, his face as unreadable as ever.
“You’re restless,” he noticed, his voice calm but laced with something she couldn’t quite place.
Rory crossed her arms, her eyes hardening. “And you’re a liar.”
Max’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “What have I done to deserve such harsh accusations tonight?”
“Stop playing games, Max,” she snapped. “I know about Rossini. I know about my mother’s records. And I know you’ve been lying to me from the start.”
Max’s jaw tightened, but he remained calm. “It seems you’ve been busy.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Rory said, her voice rising. “What’s your endgame, Max? Why did you marry me? Was it all just part of some sick plan?”
For a moment, Max said nothing, his keen gaze locked onto hers. Then, he stepped closer, his voice falling to a dangerous whisper. “Be careful, Rory. You’re playing with fire.”
She refused to back down, her anger fueling her bravery. “Maybe I am. But at least I’m not afraid to get burned.”
The tension between them was electric, the space between them crackling with unsaid words. Rory’s heart pounded, her feelings a whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and something she refused to name.
Max’s eyes softened, just for a moment, and he reached out as if to touch her. But then he pulled back, his walls snapping back into place.
“You want answers?” he said, his voice cold. “Then find them. But don’t expect me to save you when you understand the truth is more than you can handle.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Rory standing in the darkened hall, her chest heaving and her resolve stiffening.
Whatever Max was hiding, she would discover it. And when she did, she’d make sure he regretted ever doubting her.