Chapter 12
Camille changed after Derek left.
Not immediately.
At first she blamed him.
“He pushed me.”
Partly true.
Then Vincent.
“He told me the children needed stability.”
Also partly true.
Then Elena.
“She shouldn’t have named me guardian if she didn’t trust me.”
Wrong.
Elena had trusted the woman Camille was then.
That trust did not become permanent permission.
Eventually Camille stopped distributing responsibility.
That took almost a year.
She asked to see me.
Not the children.
Good.
We met in a quiet restaurant.
She brought nothing.
No gifts.
No photographs.
No dramatic apology letter.
“I miss them.”
“I know.”
“I dream about Violet in that room.”
I said nothing.
“She was crying when I locked the door.”
My jaw tightened.
Camille continued because she needed to.
“I told myself she was safe because the room had water and blankets.”
Same logic Derek used.
Containment called safety.
“I kept checking the door.”
That was new.
“How often?”
“Every twenty minutes.”
Interesting.
She did not abandon Violet entirely.
That did not make confinement acceptable.
Complexity again.
“Why not let her out?”
“Because every time I went back, I thought about the card.”
There.
She chose conspiracy repeatedly.
Not one panic.
Several chances.
Important.
She cried.
“I loved her and still did that.”
“Yes.”
That truth seemed to shock her more than any accusation.
People often believe love makes certain actions impossible.
It doesn’t.
Love without boundaries can still become control.
She asked:
“Can she ever see me again?”
“I don’t know.”
Not never.
Not soon.
“I’m her aunt.”
“Yes.”
The word described history.
Not access.
May you like
Camille nodded.
For the first time, she did not argue.
