Chapter Three: Scandal Before Sunrise

Camille's POV

The car moved the moment I shut the door.

I sat stiffly in the passenger's seat, my hands folded in my laps, and I stared straight ahead. The city light blurred past the windows but I barely saw them. My mind was stuck at the party, at Marcus’s words, at Fiora’s voice, at the way everything I had believed collapsed in one night. Tears rolled down my eyes.

Adrian handed me a wipe to clean my tears, he didn’t try to talk.

That alone told me he understood.

After a while, I realized we weren’t heading towards my house. I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to be seen, not tonight.

The car stopped in front of a quiet luxury hotel that was built away from the main roads. There was no flashing lights, no crowd, just glass doors and soft lighting.

Adrian parked and stepped out first. He didn’t offer his hand. He didn’t hover, he simply just waited.

Inside, he spoke to the receptionist in a low voice and booked a room, one room, under my name. He paid without hesitation and he gave me the key card across the counter toward me. 

“You will be safe here,” he said. “ Lock the door. Don’t answer it for anyone.”

“Are you staying?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“No.” 

There was no pause. No excuse.

He walked me only as far as the elevators. When the doors opened, he stopped.

“Get some rest,” he said. 

Before I could reply, he stepped back. The doors of the elevator closed between us, which cut him off.  and I ended up alone.

The room was quiet and cold. I dropped my clutch bag on the table and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. The silence pressed against my ears until my chest started to ache. 

I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the hot water run until steam filled the space. I scrubbed my skin like I could wash the night away. Like I could erase the sound of Marcus’s voice and Fiora’s laughter.

When I finally lay down, exhaustion dragged me to the dreamland before I could think anymore.

I woke up from the sound of my phone vibrating, it continued vibrating multiple messages dropping at the same time. 

I sat up fully this time, my heart already raving as I unlocked the screen. 

The internet loaded and my breath left my body.

Photos stared back at me like evidence in a trial I didn’t know I was in trial for.

Me at the Valmont party. Me walking alone.

Me getting into Adrain’s car and me entering the hotel lobby with Adrain. 

The headline wete worse 

“Marcus Halr Betrayed First?”

“Elite Wife’s Affair with Adrain Steele Exposed”

“Scandal Rocks Valmont High Society”

My hands started to shake. 

I scrolled faster.

Comments poured in by the hundreds.

She was never innocent.

Poor Marcus.

Women like her always play victim.

Disgusting.

I felt sick. They didn’t ask questions, they made decisions.

I dropped the phone onto the bed. 

So this was it. 

This is how they planned to bury me.

I didn’t wait. I didn’t think. I threw on my clothes, grabbed my bag, and left the room like the walls were closing in. 

The moment I stepped into the hotel lobby, I felt it. 

Eyes.

People looked at me then looked away, some didn’t bother to hide it. Their gazes slid over me slowly, it was judgmental, heavy and sharp.

By the time I reached the street, my chest hurt.

In the car ride home, every red light felt like punishment. I kept my head down, but I could still feel it, my name spreading, my image twisting, my life being rewritten in real time. 

When I arrived at the house, something felt wrong immediately. 

The gates were open. The lights were all on, I stepped inside and I froze.

Marcus stood in the living room. He wasn’t alone.

A man in a dark suit stood beside him, holding a slim folder. He looked calm. Professional. Like someone who had come to deliver something final.

Marcus didn’t look at me.

Not once.

He stared straight ahead, his expression was distant and controlled like the man I had married had long moved on from whatever we were supposed to be, like I have been living with a stranger all these while. 

My stomach dropped.

No one spoke.

The silence stretched until it felt unbearable.

That was when it hit me, not as a thought, not as a word, but as a weight pressing down on my chest. 

Whatever this was…

It had already begun.

And I was the last to arrive.