Camille''s point of view
By four o''clock, my brain felt stuffed with French conjugations and pronunciation corrections. My third coffee of the day wasn''t helping the shaking in my hands.
Mrs. Harrington, the etiquette coach, noticed immediately. Ady never allows fatigue to show," she reprimanded, straightening my already-
straight spine.
"Shoulders back. Chin parallel to the floor. Now, let''s review the proper handling of difficult dinner conversations."
For two more hours, we practiced responding to inappropriate questions, managing awkward silences, and the subtle art of steering conversations toward or away from specific topics. All skills Victoria deemed When James finally drove me back to the mansion at six, I had exactly forty-
five minutes to prepare for dinner with the board
members. My head pounded. ck spots danced at the edges
of my vision. The thought of making small talk with twelve stern executives made me want to curl into a ball and disappear.
Instead, I changed into the evening dressid out for me, an elegant ck Dior that probably cost more than most people''s monthly sry. The stylist had left detailed notes about which jewelry to wear and how Looking in the mirror, I barely recognized the sophisticated woman staring back at me. Designer dress. Perfect makeup. Expensive jewelry. I looked like I belonged in Victoria''s world of wealth and power. But inside, I felt hollowed out. Empty. A pretty shell with nothing left inside.
My knees buckled suddenly, room
spinning around me. I grabbed the vanity for support, but my arms gave way. Thest thing I saw before darkness imed me was my reflection sliding sideways in the mirror, eyes closing as consciousness slij
I woke to softness beneath me and the sensation of something cool on my forehead. Opening my eyes slowly, I found myself on my bed, still in the ck dress, though someone had removed my shoes.
"The third time this week," Victoria''s voice came from nearby. "Your body is telling you something."
I turned my head to find her sitting in a chair
beside my bed, reading sses perched on her nose as she reviewed documents. She didn''t look up.
"What time is it?" I croaked, throat dry.
"Nearly nine. James found you when you didn''te down for the
car." She made a note in the margin of whatever she was reading. "I sent your regrets to the board. We''ll reschedule." Shame washed over me. "I''m sorry."
Victoria finally looked up, removing her sses. "For what? Having physical limitations? That''s not failure, it''s biology"
I struggled to sit up, room tilting
dangerously before settling "The dinner was important."
"Yes. And you were in no condition to attend." She set aside her papers. "Which raises a question about your training regimen."
My heart sank. More lessons? Earlier mornings? I couldn''t imagine how my schedule could be more grueling than it already was.
"Why are you doing this to me?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, raw and honest in a way I hadn''t allowed myself to be since epting her offer.
Victoria didn''t seem offended. If anything, she looked like she''d been expecting the question.
"Because no one bes powerful by beingfortable, she said, her voice matter-
of-fact. "Not even my own daughter."
She stood, moving to the window that overlooked the mansion''s gardens, silver hair gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the ss.
"When I was twenty-
two," she continued, "I worked three jobs while attending night sses. I slept four hours
a night for two years. Copsed twice from exhaustion. Kept going anyway."
She turned back to face me. "By twenty five, I''d built my firstpany. By thirty, my first billion. Each step required sacrifice. Comfort and power rarely coexist."
"But this pace isn''t sustainable," I protested. "I can''t keep.
"Of course you can''t," she interrupted. "That''s precisely the point."
1 stared at her, confused.
"Pushing beyond your limits shows you where they truly lie," she exined. "Most people never discover their actual capacity because they stop at the first sign of difort."
She returned to the chair beside my bed. "The training you''ve endured these past weeks has taught you more than facts and skills. It''s shown you that you''re capable of far more than you believed." I considered her words, realizing with surprise that she was right. Three
weeks ago, I couldn''t have imagined. absorbing so much information, enduring such physical challenges, maintaining apletely new identity under pressure.
"But now adjustments are necessary," Victoria continued. We''ve established your baseline. From tomorrow, your schedule will change."
Relief flooded through me. "Fewer lessons?"
"Different distribution," she corrected. "Combat training three days a week instead of five. Business education condensed into more efficient modules. More independent study, less ssroom time." She handed me a ss of water from the bedside table. "Your body needs recovery time to strengthen. Your mind needs space to process. Neither benefits from constant pressure without relief."
I sipped the water, studying her over the rim of the ss. "You knew this would happen. The copse."
"I anticipated it," she acknowledged. "Just as I anticipate your ability to adapt to whates next."
"Which is?"
"Phase two." Victoria smiled slightly. "The foundation isid, basic skills, public introduction, established background. Now we build your reputation, your connections, your influence."
She stood again, smoothing, her impable suit. "Sleep now. Tomorrow startster, 9 AM meeting with your new personal physician. He''ll assess your physical condition and rmend adjustments to your training.
It felt like a massive concessioning from her. But as she reached the door, she paused, looking back with steel in her eyes.
"Don''t mistake this for softness, Camille. The path ahead remains difficult. But breaking you serves no purpose. I need you strong, capable, and fully functional."
"For revenge," I said quietly.
"For justice," she corrected. "And for the future neither of us could have achieved alone."
After she left, I stared at the ceiling, too exhausted to undress but too wired to sleep immediately. Her words echoed in my mind: No one bes powerful by beingfortable. Not even my own daughter. The endearment felt strange, both false and oddly genuine I wasn''t her daughter, not really. But I wasn''t Camille Lewis anymore either. I existed in some in- between state, shedding my old self day by painful day, but not yet fully transformed into whoever I was bing.
Rolling onto my side, I caught sight of my reflection in the dressing table mirror across the room. Even from here, I could see how different I looked from the woman who had signed divorce papers three weeks Eventually, exhaustion won, pulling me under into dreams filled with fighting shadows and endless tests I couldn''t pass. I woke periodically throughout the night, each time remembering Victoria''s words before c No one bes powerful by beingfortable.
By morning, something
had shifted inside me. The resentment remained, but alongside it grew a different feeling, determination. If this brutal regimen was the price of bing someone who could never be hurt like Camille Lewis ha When my rm sounded at 8 AM, practically mid-
daypared to my usual wake-up, I rose without the bone-
deep dread that had apanied each morning for weeks. My body still ached, my mind still felt overloaded, but
something else had grown stronger.
My resolve
The woman in the mirror looked back at me with eyes that matched Victoria''s in their determination, if not yet in their confidence. Not quite Camille Lewis anymore. Not fully Camille Kane yet, But getting closer every day.
I showered, dressed in the outfitid out for me, and headed downstairs where James would be waiting with the car. Each step still hurt, but now I weed the pain.
It meant I was changing Growing. Bing