THE BILLIONAIRE’S WIFE

Chapter 1

1: the invitation

Camille's point of view

The afternoon sun was bathing my workshop with a soft and reassuring light. I loved this moment of the day, when the regular noise of my sewing machine resonated in the room. The fabric slipped between my fingers with this feeling that only a craftsman can understand. I was in my element, concentrated, but not to the point of not hearing the chatter of Mathilde and Élise, my friends, who had joined me to pass the time.

- Camille, you work too much! launched Mathilde, mocking, by putting a button. If I had your talent, I would not stop with wedding dresses or retouching. I would open a shop in Cotonou, in the beautiful neighborhoods!

I laugh gently, looking up at her. Mathilde always had ambitious ideas for everyone except for herself.

-You say that as if it were easy, I replied, amused. And then, here, everyone knows me. I prefer that to the madness of big cities.

Élise, who was measuring a lace ribbon, raised her head with a mischievous smile.

- It’s true that everyone knows you, and everyone admires you too. Besides, is it true what we say? Are you going to dress Mrs for her gala?

I shrugged, trying to hide my pride.

- Yes, she asked me for a special dress. But you know her: she will surely come back three times to change the details.

We laughed. It was always nice to share these simple moments with them. But, as always, our discussions ended up driving towards a subject that I was trying to avoid.

- And you, Camille, said Mathilde with a smirk, not yet prince charming on the horizon?

I sighed, while taking my seam.

- You know that I don't have time for that. My workshop comes first.

Élise and Mathilde exchanged an accomplice look that told me nothing good.

- However, Camille, insisted Élise, I was told that a very elegant man went here yesterday ...

My heart missed a beat, but I tried to stay calm.

-Just a customer, I replied, shrugging my shoulders. A customer like any other.

But I was lying. This man had something unique. His presence had filled the workshop with a different, almost intimidating aura. His gaze, piercing and assured, had destabilized me as no one had done before. And yet it was only there for a moment.

I shook my head to chase this thought and plunged back into my work. This kind of man had nothing to do with me. I had to stay focused.

While we were plunged into our discussion, an imposing silhouette appeared at the entrance to the workshop. The man who had just entered seemed straight out of a fashion magazine: tall, well dressed, with a perfectly cut costume, and a presence that imposed respect. Its wooded and subtle fragrance immediately floated in the air.

I put my needle, intrigued, just like Mathilde and Élise, who turned to him, round eyes. He was holding an envelope in hand, and his dark gaze scanned the room as if he evaluated every detail.

- Camille ... Are you right? He asked in a serious but polite voice.

-Yes, it's me, I replied, slightly nervous.

He advanced a few steps, stretched the envelope towards me, and declared:

- This is for you.

I took the envelope, my slightly trembling fingers. Inside, a thick and luxurious map, adorned with gilding, almost blows my breath. I read in a low voice:

- "Star Gala" ...

It was a prestigious event that I vaguely heard about. A gathering where the great personalities, the influential figures of the country, and the renowned artists found themselves. But why me?

I looked up, troubled.

-There must be an error ... Why am I invited?

The man sketched an enigmatic smile.

- You are expected. Just make sure you are present on D-Day.

I frowned, trying to understand.

- But ... by whom? Who invited me?

He took a step back, adjusting his cufflinks with casual elegance.

- All I can tell you is that your presence is required.

Before I could ask another question, he turned his heels and left the workshop, leaving behind a silence charged with curiosity and mystery.

Mathilde and Élise jumped almost on me.

- Camille! What was that?! Mathilde launched, shiny eyes of excitement.

- The stars gala! Do you realize? added Élise. Only the powerful and the famous go there!

I looked at the card again, still incredulous. Me, Camille, a simple seamstress, invited to such a grand event? It made no sense. And yet the envelope in my hands was very real.

Who was behind all this?

(..)

The days passed, but my mind remained obsessed with this invitation. Who could invite me to an event so prestigious? I tried to convince myself that it was only an error, but the envelope remained there, very real, placed on my desk.

The day before the gala, my friends Mathilde and Élise insisted to come and help me prepare.

- Camille, it is not every day that a seamstress like you is invited to such an event! You must be perfect, launched Mathilde, landing with a makeup box under your arm.

I sighed, half-embellished, half recessive.

- Perfect? You will exaggerate. I'm sure I'm going to blend in with the mass, or worse, that I will notice for bad reasons.

Élise burst out laughing while placing a huge hairdressing kit on the table.

- With your talent, you can make a dress worthy of the biggest stars. And believe me, we will notice you, but not for bad reasons.

I had actually decided to make a dress, for lack of means to buy one. I was inspired by my favorite creations, combining simplicity and elegance. The fabric, a black silk that I had put aside for a special occasion, was soft to the touch and fell perfectly.

-Well, show us this famous dress, said Mathilde impatiently.

I stretched the hanger on which the room was based. The two burst out with admiration.

- Camille! You're going to be a goddess in that, exclaimed Élise.

I smiled, a little embarrassed, but their encouragement gave me confidence. We spent the afternoon to refine my outfit, to choose the right accessories, and to style my hair. Élise took charge of my hair, raising it in an elegant but slightly disheveled bun, while Mathilde took care of my makeup.

-Not too much, I said, folding my eyes while she applied a touch of lipstick. I want to stay myself.

-You yourself, but in a glamorous version, she replied, laughing.

When they ended, I looked at myself in the mirror. I was struggling to recognize myself. The woman who stared at me seemed to get out of a magazine: elegant, confident, and ready to face the world. However, my heart was beating everything.

- What if I weren't in my place? I whispered, a little nervous.

Mathilde put her hands on my shoulders.

- Camille, you're still in your place. It doesn't matter where you're going. Tonight, show them that you are.

I nodded, taking a deep inspiration. With the dress I had made with my own hands and the assurance that my friends had breathed, I was ready to face the unknown.

The next evening, when I went up in the car to pick me up - a black sedan with tinted windows - a thought crossed my mind: anyone who had invited me, she was going to have to answer my questions.

(..)

When the car stopped in front of the sumptuous illuminated building, my heart accelerated. I took a deep inspiration before going out, thanking the driver for a head sign. The large glass doors sparkle, and inside a whirlwind of light, laughter and animated conversations filled the air.

I had never seen anything so grandiose. The walls, covered with gilding, the gigantic chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, everything seemed out of a dream. However, from my first steps, I felt that I did not belong to this world.

The guests were elegant, almost unreal. Men in perfectly cut costumes, women in creative dresses who seemed to cost a fortune. I met some curious looks, but no familiar face.

I was trying to blend into the crowd, but each step reminded me that I was a foreigner here. My heels slammed on the marble floor, and I couldn't help but feel observed.

-What am I doing here? I whispered for myself.

I was doing my best to appear confident, but in reality, I only had one desire: to find a corner where I hide. I didn't know why I was there or what to do. I was content to walk, observing the animated conversations around me, but no look was on me more than a second.

Suddenly, an elegant woman in her fifties approached me with a warm smile.

- Good evening, my dear. You are beautiful. Let me introduce myself, I am Florence.

I made her a shy smile.

- Good evening. My name is Camille.

She seemed so enthusiastic and comfortable in this environment that I was almost jealous.

- Are you alone here? she asked, quickly observing the crowd.

-Yes, I replied, a little hesitant. I ... I think someone invited me, but I don't know who.

She leaned her head slightly, intrigued.

- Well, he or she made an excellent choice. These kinds of events are perfect for meeting influential people. Take advantage of it.

We exchanged a few words, but I couldn't relax. Finally, Florence was called by a group of people, and I found myself alone again.

The bustle in the room seemed more and more overwhelming. I was only a simple seamstress, surrounded by important figures. What were I doing there? I looked at my watch. It's been an hour already, and I still hadn't found an answer.

I decided to leave. Maybe it was a mistake, a joke. I didn't have my place here.

As I went to the exit, my gaze lowered, a strange feeling made me look up. And there, in the middle of the crowd, I live it.

He was standing, just a few meters away, but his presence dominated the room. A man of rare elegance, with a suit that seemed to be tailor -made for him. His features were perfect: a square jaw, fine lips, and dark eyes that seemed to unravel the soul.

My heart stopped for a moment.

It was him. This man I had seen one day in front of my shop. I had not seen his face only briefly at that time, but he had marked me. And now he was there, his eyes fixed on me with a disturbing intensity.

I remained frozen, unable to look away. All around me seemed to be fading, conversations, laughter, lights. There was only him.

And he continued to stare at me, as if he was trying to understand who I was or why I was there.

I felt my cheeks get carried away. But despite my nervousness, I could not help admiring this man in the midst of so many people.