DESTRUCTION IS DEMURE 2

CAMILLA RYDER

The Lamborghini purred away as I stepped onto the red carpet laid before the towering glass doors of the grand opening venue. My eyes instantly caught the massive banner above — Liam’s face looming on it, bold and arrogantly posed like some kind of messiah to the business world.

A knot twisted in my stomach. I had loved him, deeply and foolishly even against my father’s warnings and the judgment of every sane voice around me. But... I picked him up when he was nothing, taught him everything he knew about the business, and believed in him more than I did myself.

And in return?

He cheated on me with my d**n own stepsister.

Then stole my company.

The one I had poured my soul into.

Karen was right when she said. “You're such a gullible Camilla... You built an empire only to hand it over to a man out of love.”

She was darn right!. God, I wish I hadn't married him... I wish I had seen him for who he is...

“This way, Mrs. Vincent,” Vincenzo said beside me, gesturing respectfully toward the front-row seat. Although we'd always spoken casually in private, but, he never failed to show courtesy in public — a habit I had come to expect and become used to.

Just as I took a step toward my seat, a small blur of movement darted toward me. A young boy — maybe eight or nine, ran by too close, and his foot snagged on my gown. A sharp rip echoed through the air. My diamond-studded gown tore open across my thigh leaving it exposed.

Vincenzo immediately grabbed the boy by the shoulder, preventing him from fleeing. I quickly pulled the fabric around my exposed leg.

“Watch it, kid,” Vincenzo snapped, fuming in anger. “This is a formal event, not a playground. Do you even know what you just tore? That’s a diamond-threaded Chaina couture dress!”

"Easy, Vin,” I said, lifting a hand to calm him. “It’s fine, the kid doesn't even understand a thing you just said" Well, he just spoke Italian... he speaks Italian most times when he's very angry and wants to curse.

"He didn’t mean it. Besides, with the way this gown flows, it was only a matter of time before someone got caught in it.” I said again before he released his hand from the boy's shoulder.

I turned to the boy, crouching slightly to meet his eyes.

Hazel brown.

Just like mine.

Just like… Liam’s.

There was something in his gaze that seemed familiar.

"It’s alright, sweetheart,” I said softly, smiling. “Don’t worry about the dress. Honestly... I never liked it much anyway and it's not a biggie.” That was a lie, of course. Lorenzo had imported it personally and bragged that it could buy the whole of my generation. I understood why Vin was ready to lose it over a tear.

“The boss won’t let this go, Mrs. Vincent,” Vincenzo muttered from behind. “You need to—”

“What do you want to do?” I cut in sharply. “Have the boy arrested for stepping on a dress? Relax, Vin. You’ve got to learn how to un-clench once in a while.”

"I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the boy murmured, bowing his head.

I reached out, gently touching his hand. The connection was instant, electric.

Why did he look so much like Liam?

"Wait…” I started, my voice softer. “What’s your name?”

But he jerked his hand away as his eyes widened. “I gotta go, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

He said, before I could stop him, he was gone, swallowed up among the crowd.

“He’s not your son, Gui,” Vincenzo whispered into my ear.

And for a fleeting second, I almost forgot my son was dead. I didn't even get a chance to give him a name and...

After two years since I became Giulia and settled in Italy. I had Vincenzo look for him secretly even though it was the most risky decision I had to make apart from pretending to be someone else—I just wanted to know if he was doing fine with Liam... But that bastard Liam… he let my boy die.

Vin confirmed it that he had died just six months after the authorities handed him over to Liam.

My heart clenched, but I refused to cry.

With strict composure, I blinked back the tears and gently took my seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen,” the MC’s voice echoed through the microphone, cutting through the hum of chatter. “Please join me in celebrating the CEO of M-Elite as we welcome him on stage.”

A wave of applause rose through the grand hall.

Liam strutted up the stage, his smile wide, smug, and of course, he didn't know the shock that awaited him.

A smile curled on my lips—he was seconds away from the shock of his life.

I leaned closer to Vincenzo and whispered in his ears, “Has she received the package?”

He nodded his head before showing me a video on his phone.

There she was—Karen—screaming hysterically like she’d seen a ghost.

I nearly laughed out loud.

I sent her a nice gift— A blood-drenched photo of me, tucked in a card that had a writing "I'm Back."

Just a little teaser. The real show was only beginning.

“Tonight’s event is all about our major investor in Italy,” Liam continued, basking in the spotlight. “And through this merger, we’re taking M-Elite global. Though our honorary guest, Mr. Lorenzo Vincent, couldn’t join us tonight, his wife is here to represent him. Please welcome… Mrs. Giulia Vincent.”

Applause thundered once again as I rose from my seat.

A spotlight hit me, stealing breaths and freezing conversations.

Vincenzo stepped ahead, shielding me from the eager press as we moved toward the stage.

All eyes turned to me.

Whispers buzzed around the hall like electricity.

"Is that… Camilla Ryder?”

“Can’t be. She died years ago.”

I walked with poise, letting the mystery soak into their stares.

And then—there he was.

Liam.

His jaw dropped as his mouth hung open. His world shifted.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost—and in a way, he had.

I smiled serenely and gave him a graceful nod, savoring every second of his stunned silence.

He tried to compose himself, plastering that same rehearsed smile back on his face. But his hands trembled and I saw it as we shook.

I stepped closer and gave him a polite, brief hug.

Just enough to make his nightmare real.

I felt the thundering of his heartbeat beneath his suit jacket.

Good.

Let it pound. Let it echo the truth he couldn’t yet speak.

I wasn’t a ghost.

I was the reckoning.