Camille''s point of view.


    The voice behind me sent the frame tumbling from my hands. It hit the carpet with a muffled thud as I spun around.


    Victoria stood in the doorway, her expression a storm of fury and pain. Her usually perfect appearance was disheveled, clothes wrinkled from travel, hair slightly mussed, as if she''d rushed home unexpectedly. "L...I thought you were in Tokyo," I stammered, heart hammering against my ribs.


    "Flight canceled due to mechanical issues." Her eyes swept the room, cataloging any disturbance I might have caused. "You didn''t answer my question."


    I could have lied. Could have imed I got lost,


    identally found the key, had innocent reasons for snooping But something in Victoria''s face, the raw wound exposed beneath her anger, demanded honesty.


    "I was curious," I admitted, bending to retrieve the fallen photo frame. "About the locked wing. About why it was. off-


    limits."


    "So you invaded my privacy. Searched my office for the key. Entered a space clearly meant to remain closed." Each sentence fell like a judgment, cold and precise. "Yes." No excuses. No justifications.


    Victoria''s gaze settled on the photo in my hands. Something flickered across her expression, grief so intense it momentarily overwhelmed the anger.


    "Put that down," she said quietly. "And get out."


    I carefully returned the frame to its ce. "Victoria, I..."


    "Now."


    I moved toward the door, expecting her to step aside. Instead, she remained nted in the doorway, forcing me to squeeze past her, close enough to feel the rigid tension in her body, to smell the subtle scent of her perfume mixed with the staleness of long- haul travel.


    In the sitting area, I paused, turning back to find her still watching from Sophia''s doorway, one hand gripping the frame as if for support. "I''m sorry," I said softly. "I shouldn''t have..."


    "Do you know what today is?" she interrupted, voice unnaturally controlled.


    I shook my head, unease growing at the intensity of her gaze.


    "It''s her birthday." Victoria''s knuckles whitened on the doorframe. "She would have been thirty-


    three today."


    The revtion hit like a physical blow. Of all days to vite this sanctuary, I''d chosen the one when Victoria''s grief would be freshest, most raw,


    "I didn''t know," I whispered.


    "No." Something in her tone shifted, the cold fury giving way to something moreplex. "You didn''t. Because I never told you."


    She finally stepped away from the doorway, moving to the chess board in the sitting area. With careful precision, she adjusted one of the pieces, a knight moving to threaten a bishop. "Sophia loved chess," she said, not looking at me. "Insisted it helped her think strategically. We yed every Sunday morning. This was ourst game, the morning before she died."


    I remained motionless, afraid any movement might shatter this unexpected moment of vulnerability.


    me, I


    "I''ve kept it exactly as we left it. Sometimes I sit here and try to remember what move she was contemting" Victoria''s finger hovered over a white pawn. "She always took her time, considered every possibility The parallel to our rtionship, her aggressive molding of me, my attempts to anticipate her expectations, hung unspoken between us.


    "Ten years," Victoria continued, finally looking up at me. "Ten years ofing here on her birthday, sitting in her space, pretending for a few hours that she''s just stepped out. That she''ll return any moment with My chest tightened at the naked pain in her expression. Gone was the formidable businesswoman, the ruthless mentor, the demanding adoptive mother. In her ce stood simply a woman hollowed by grief, pr "She was more than my daughter," Victoria said, sinking onto the sofa beside the chess set. "She was the best of me. The kindness I couldn''t afford to show, the warmth I''d forgotten how to express, the hope l'' I cautiously sat opposite


    her, feeling the weight of the moment. Victoria had never spoken this openly before, never revealed so much of herself.


    "When she died, I wanted to die too." She touched a chess piece, the ck queen, with gentle fingers. "But then revenge became my purpose. Destroying the Prestons gave me a reason to continue. And when "Until you saw my photo," I said softly.


    Her eyes met mine, sharp with sudden intensity. "Do you know what I thought when I first saw you? Not just that you looked like her, though the resemnce was striking. I thought: here''s another bright young power over it."


    Victoria leaned forward slightly. "I recognized in you what the Prestons tried to stamp out in Sophia. Potential, Intelligence. A fundamental strength your family never nurtured."


    "But you barely knew me," I countered. "One photo in a society magazine...."


    "I had you investigated thoroughly," she interrupted. "Every aspect of your life examined. Your education records. Your medical history. Your social circles. The more I learned, the more clearly I saw the parallels "Differences?"


    "Sophia was loved. Cherished. Supported in all her dreams You were undermined at every turn, yet still fought to carve out your own space. Imagine what you might have be with proper nurturing instead of constant sabotage,"


    The observation stung with its uracy. All my life, I''d been swimming against the current of my family''s preferences, Rose''s maniptions, society''s expectations


    "That''s why I offered you this chance," Victoria continued. "Not just because you resembled her physically. Not just for revenge against those who hurt you. But because I recognized something worth saving. W of my value independent of my usefulness for revenge or my resemnce to Sophia. "When I saw you in here," Victoria said, gesturing toward Sophia''s bedroom, "my first thought wasn''t anger at the invasion o that you might damage something, change something, disrupt the preservation of her space."


    "I would never," I began, but she raised a hand to silence me.


    "I know. But grief isn''t rational. This wing has remained untouched for a decade, cleaned only by me, entered


    only by me. These rooms are all I have left of her physical presence in the world."


    She stood suddenly, moving back to the bedroom doorway staring inside with an expression of such longing it made my throat tighten,


    "She was brilliant," Victoria said softly. "Could have run thepany better than I ever did. Had this extraordinary ability to see connections others missed. But more importantly, she was kind. Genuinely kind, in I joined


    her at the doorway, following her gaze to the room bathed in afternoon sunlight. "Tell me about her," said. "Not just the facts I could find in news articles orpany biographies. Tell me who she really was." Victoria nced at me, surprise evident in her expression. Then something softened around her eyes.


    "She snorted when sheughed too hard. Couldn''t carry a tune to save her life but sang constantly anyway. Loved spicy food and old ck-


    and-


    white movies and thunderstorms." A small, genuine smile touched Victoria''s lips. She had this ridiculous collection of novelty socks, zombies and dinosaurs and


    mathematical equations. Said life was too serious not to have silly socks."


    Each detail built a picture of a real person, not just the perfect daughter of Victoria''s rare mentions or the tragic victim of a calcted ident. A young woman with quirks and passions and imperfections. "She sounds wonderful," I said sincerely.


    "She was." Victoria''s smile faded. "And I couldn''t protect her."


    The admission carried such weight, Victoria Kane, who controlled billion-


    dor deals and intimidated world leaders, acknowledging her ultimate failure at the one thing that truly mattered to her.


    "Is that why you''re training me so ruthlessly?" I asked, the connection suddenly clear. "To ensure can protect myself when you can''t protect me?"