Chapter 19
522 Words
Matt
I hadn’t stopped watching.
I told myself it was just curiosity. A passing need to know how far Camille had fallen without me.
But the truth festered inside my gut like rot.
She was glowing. Flourishing. Wearing tailored blazers that hugged her curves and heels that clicked like power across polished floors. And the worst part?
She was laughing again.
With "him".
Enrique Salazar.
I clenched my jaw as i stood outside the downtown café, watching Camille through the glass. Her smile was soft, her hand casually brushing Enrique’s as they shared a conversation over coffee.
It was supposed to be *me* beside her. Not some billionaire with charm and influence. Not someone who hadn’t seen Camille when she cried into the silence after a long day.
I fished my phone from my pocket and dialed.
“Vivian.”
Her voice answered, crisp and cold. “I told you to stop calling me like this.”
“You said we were in this together.”
“No. I said I’d help you until *she* was out of the way. Now you’ve lost control, and I have my damage to manage.”
My voice dropped, venom lacing every word. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy ripping her life apart.”
“I didn’t fall in love with her. You did. And now you’re obsessed.”
I hung up before I said something unforgivable.
But she was wrong.
This wasn’t an obsession.
This was *justice*.
Camille had walked away, leaving me to rot in a marriage she chose to end. And now she thought she could just fall into the arms of someone like Enrique without consequences?
I opened the secure folder, scrolling past old photos—ones she’d forgotten he had.
I tapped on a video.
Camille, three years ago. Crying. Vulnerable. In their bedroom, venting about her fears, and her insecurities. Telling me secrets she thought would stay between husband and wife.
*“I feel like they only see me when I’m perfect. When I’m polished. If they saw the real me, the messy me… they’d leave.”*
I smiled.
This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This was about *control*.
And I'll never let go of what was mine.
---
Later that night, a USB drive was delivered to HR under an anonymous envelope. Inside were cherry-picked clips of Camille, carefully edited, and designed to make her look unstable, erratic, and emotionally volatile.
The same Camille he used to gaslight in private, is now being weaponized in public.
But Matt wasn’t done.
He sent a message to Camille’s email. No subject. No words.
Just a video file.
She opened it after midnight, Enrique was sleeping beside her.
The video opened with her tear-stained face from years ago, followed by a chilling message in white text on a black screen:
“You may have forgotten who you are, Camille. But I haven’t. And soon… neither will the world.”
Her hands trembled. She backed out of the email, but the damage was done. The feeling of safety evaporated.
Matt had made his move.
And he had just declared war.
---
- Writer
