Camilla The Secret History Novels & Stories

Elegant. Expensive. Attached was a handwritten note. Your resilience is inspiring. Wishing you strength and healing. — Camilla Elara stared at the flowers for a long time. Then at the signature. A chill crawled down her spine. Because the gesture felt perfect. Too perfect. And for the first time, she wondered whether Camilla’s kindness had ever truly been kindness at all. Meanwhile, Aaron faced a growing threat he had not yet fully revealed. Political enemies were moving. Old secrets were resurfacing.

a voice calls from the hallway. The sound is a splash of cold water. We break apart, our chests heaving, our eyes wide with shock. It’s Isabella. Her voice is sweet, innocent, concerned. We have been caught.

Catherine’s pulse quickened with each inspection, nausea roiling beneath her nervousness. One of the maids, Beatrice, with her smug little smile, glanced over at Catherine and murmured, “They say the prince’s favorites always get bold sooner or later.” Another maid, Lucy, joined in, taunting, “If you’re hiding anything, you’d best come clean now, Catherine.” Isla bristled, moving protectively closer. “Keep your nose out of other people’s business,” she snapped quietly. The Chief of Staff’s search was thorough, but Catherine was still nervous. The earrings were buried deep beneath a large stone in the larder, exactly as Isla had suggested.

Camilla crotches down to meet her size, Liam safely placed in her arms when Karla kisses her check, earning heartfelt reactions from everyone. It's so sweet, I could cry, but I don't. I don't ever cry, especially not in front of people.“You want to know a secret?” Camilla giggles, “You're the best gift I've ever gotten.” she tells her, placing a kiss on her cheek before rising to her feet.

That was how they worked, in silent communication and sync, so much so that they never accepted other people to switch or join them. Selena squatted at the end of the hallway by the wall where there was a fluffy door mat and ran her hand through it. Smooth, no lump or irregularities meaning it was either still new or never used. She moved it and smiled at her finding. A tiny key hole. Typical rich people. She thought. They either had a secret something behind a painting or behind a book shelf or under their floor boards. The owner of the house fell under the last category, thus explaining the thick ceiling. She pulled at one of the boards but it didn't budge. Pushing it didn't work out eithe

I took my phone on the bed and marched out if the house. I know no where in Nigeria. The ladies in the reception were drooling as I walk pass. I board a taxi and entered. "Take to a police station here" I muttered. ..................... Kate's pov I began to read the diary loud. It reads: Dear diary, when will Kate know about this secret we've been keeping from her? How will I tell her that Janet her sister isn't her biological sister. She's Andrew's daughter. Her uncle. He really wanted to use Jane has his burnt offering to the god(idol) he was serving but knew his secret and had to save baby Jane who was still 5 then and Kate is just a year old.

It proves that I meant entirely nothing to him. Her dark eyes flash. "Look who we have here care to introduce yourself, who are you?” she asks me cockily. “Am Eros Ramazzotti secretary"I say biting back at her although wincing at the way the title of secretary made evident that I was really just his secretary and nothing more.... "Are you another one of his bimbo's? Did you just have sex with him?” I ask her. She gives me a sly smile. “With who? I know I never fucked your man. I can see the fire in your eyes"She says in her slurry with a touch of an Australian accent.

“How do we know you’re not hiding other secrets?” “It doesn’t matter!” Camille yelled, her frustration and pent up anger bursting out of her. “It should be up to me to tell you my secrets when I’m ready! I don’t expect you to be an open book with me. I’m not asking anything of you that I wouldn’t give to you in return!”

I said slowly. "Precisely my concern," Camilla said. "I will consider your family's offer seriously, Isabella, because I believe your honesty tonight was genuine. But you should return home understanding that whoever arranged my introduction to Vittoria is still sitting close enough to both of us to arrange the next one." "There is one more matter," Camilla said, stopping me before I could rise from my chair. "You should know that Vittoria did not simply offer me shipping routes. She offered something considerably more personal, a warning that my own family history carries secrets I have never fully uncovered myself."

But the choice had never been mine. So there I stood beside the altar, dressed in emerald satin as one of the bridesmaids, holding a bouquet so tightly that the stems pressed into my palms. In a few minutes, my cousin Bianca Romano - the girl who had grown up beside me like a sister - would marry Nicholas Contini. The man I had believed was my everything. The man I had believed loved me. Now I understood what I had truly been to him: a secret he could enjoy until something more useful came along. A pawn he could remove from the board the moment power demanded a better move.