Chapter 9: The Betrayal Behind the Perfect Suit
I couldn't hear anything.
The old showroom seemed to fall into silence, even though people were still moving around me.
I stared at the document on Eleanor's phone.
My name.
My signature.
Adrian's name listed as the authorized representative.
I slowly turned toward him.
He was standing beside the staircase.
His face had gone pale.
“Adrian?””
He looked at the phone.
Then at me.
“Camille, I can explain.””
I felt my chest tighten.
“Please tell me this isn't real.””
He stepped closer.
“It's not what you think.””
I laughed once.
A small, broken sound.
“Then what is it?””
He glanced toward Eleanor.
“Can we talk privately?””
“No.””
“Camille—”
“You don't get to ask for privacy after someone uses my name to file a claim against my own collection.””
He lowered his voice.
“I never intended to hurt you.””
“Did you sign it?””
Silence.
I looked at his hands.
He was wearing the silver watch I'd given him on our anniversary.
The same watch he had worn when he helped me sew the black-and-purple gown.
“Adrian.””
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.””
The word struck harder than I expected.
Vivienne stepped forward.
“Why?””
Adrian looked toward the floor.
“Because I thought I was protecting her.””
Eleanor's expression became cold.
“By transferring ownership of her designs to a company you control?””
“It's a holding company. It was supposed to protect the intellectual property until the dispute was resolved.””
I stared at him.
“Who owns it?””
He didn't answer.
Eleanor opened the registration record.
The company had been established six months earlier.
Its registered address was a private office in Manhattan.
Its directors included Adrian and an unnamed investment partner.
But the beneficiary section contained another name.
*VANESSA BELLAMY.*
My knees weakened.
I reached for the table.
Adrian stepped forward.
“Camille, please.””
I moved away.
“You worked with Vanessa?””
“Not exactly.””
“Not exactly?””
“She approached me months ago.””
I stared at him.
“When?””
“Before the wedding.””
The room seemed to tilt.
I remembered the nights he had spent at the studio.
The coffee.
The encouragement.
The way he had promised to stay beside me while I rebuilt the gown.
I remembered telling him about the forged documents.
About the archive.
About the trust.
He had known everything.
“Did you know what Vanessa planned to do to my mother’s collection?””
Adrian looked at me.
“I knew she wanted control of the company.””
“And you agreed to help her?””
“I thought I could stop her from selling the designs to someone else.””
I laughed bitterly.
“So you decided to sell them yourself?””
He shook his head.
“It wasn't like that.””
“Then explain it.””
He took a breath.
“Vanessa offered me a financial arrangement. She said if I helped establish a temporary holding company, we could protect the collection from the legal dispute. She promised that after everything was settled, the company would transfer the rights back to you.””
Eleanor interrupted.
“Did you receive money?””
Adrian looked away.
That was his answer.
“How much?”” I asked.
He hesitated.
“Two hundred thousand dollars.””
I stared at him.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
That was the price of his loyalty.
I looked at the man I had planned to marry.
“You watched me cry over that wedding dress.””
He lowered his head.
“You helped me rebuild it.””
“I know.””
“You held my hand when I thought my mother's work had been stolen.””
“I know.””
“You told me I wasn't alone.””
His eyes filled.
“I meant that.””
I stepped backward.
“No. You meant to keep me close enough to use.””
He reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
“Don't touch me.””
Eleanor immediately contacted the legal team.
Vivienne sat beside me.
She didn't try to comfort me with empty promises.
She simply held my hand while the attorneys examined the fraudulent transfer.
My father stood near the doorway.
He looked devastated.
“Camille, I should have warned you.””
I turned toward him.
“You knew about Adrian?””
“No.””
“Did you know Vanessa was planning to use him?””
He shook his head.
“I swear.””
I believed him.
But that didn't erase everything else.
Eleanor returned with a new document.
“The holding company has already submitted a transfer request to Maison Laurent. However, the registration is incomplete.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means the ownership transfer hasn't been finalized. The company cannot legally sell what it doesn't own.””
Vivienne nodded.
“Then the partnership can be restored.””
“Possibly,” Eleanor replied.
“But we need to establish that Camille never authorized the transfer.””
I looked at Adrian.
He was still standing near the staircase.
“Can you prove that?””
He swallowed.
“Yes.””
Everyone turned toward him.
He removed his phone.
“Vanessa recorded the agreement.””
Eleanor stepped closer.
“Where?””
“On her private office system. She recorded every meeting because she didn't trust anyone.””
“Do you have access?””
Adrian nodded.
“I copied the files before she realized what I was doing.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
He looked at me.
“Because I knew I had crossed a line. I was going to return the money and tell you.””
“When?””
He didn't answer.
“After the wedding? After you transferred my mother's collection? After you collected your share?””
His face crumpled.
“I was going to tell you before the transfer was completed.””
I shook my head.
“You don't get credit for almost doing the right thing.””
He lowered his phone.
“I know.””
Eleanor took the device.
“Send me everything.””
Adrian handed it over.
Then he looked at me.
“Camille, I love you.””
I felt tears gather, but I refused to let them fall.
“Maybe you did.””
He flinched.
“But you loved the money more.””
I turned away.
“Please leave.””
He stood there for several seconds.
Then he placed the silver watch on the table.
“I'll cooperate with the investigation.””
I didn't respond.
He walked toward the door.
At the entrance, he stopped.
“I really am sorry.””
I looked at the old photograph of my mother.
“I'm sorry too.””
He waited.
“For the woman I thought you were.””
Then he left.
By evening, Eleanor had reviewed the recordings.
We gathered in Vivienne's hotel suite.
The video began with Vanessa sitting behind a desk.
Adrian sat opposite her.
On the table between them were copies of the original design documents.
Vanessa's voice came through clearly.
“Once the collection is transferred, Camille won't have any legal control over it.””
Adrian shifted in his chair.
“What if the trust challenges the transfer?””
“They won't.””
“Eleanor has the original documents.””
“Eleanor has copies. I have the originals.””
Vanessa opened a folder.
“Besides, the trust is only useful if Camille can prove she is the sole beneficiary.””
Adrian looked uncomfortable.
“What do you mean?””
Vanessa leaned forward.
“There's a problem with her birth records.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
Eleanor paused the video.
“Did you know about this?””
I shook my head.
“Continue.””
The recording resumed.
Vanessa continued.
“Margaret made a private arrangement before Camille was born. If the original agreement is discovered, it could complicate her inheritance.””
Adrian frowned.
“Is she not Richard's daughter?””
Vanessa smiled.
“That's not what matters. What matters is whether she is legally entitled to the trust.””
Adrian looked down at the paperwork.
“And if she isn't?””
“Then the shares return to the original company.””
“Which you control?””
“Exactly.””
The video ended.
I stared at the screen.
My biological grandmother.
The hidden birth records.
The mysterious photograph.
Vanessa had been using the same secret for years.
I turned toward Vivienne.
“Is there something about my birth that could affect the trust?””
Vivienne looked troubled.
“Your mother asked me to protect your inheritance. She never told me there was a question about your legal parentage.””
My father sat forward.
“Camille is my daughter.””
Eleanor studied him.
“Then we need to establish why Vanessa believes otherwise.””
He looked at the floor.
“I know where the original records are.””
I turned.
“Where?””
“In the family house.””
We arrived at the Bellamy estate just after nine.
The house looked different at night.
The grand windows were dark.
The gardens were unlit.
The place that had once represented security now felt like a museum built around a lie.
My father led us to his study.
He opened a locked cabinet behind his desk and removed a small metal box.
Inside were old photographs, medical records, and a sealed envelope.
My name was written across it.
My father's handwriting.
I opened it.
The first document was a birth registration.
It listed Richard Bellamy as my father.
Margaret Bellamy as my mother.
Everything appeared normal.
Then I found a second document.
An amended registration.
The father's name had been removed.
The reason was listed as:
*PATERNITY RECORD SEALED BY COURT ORDER.*
I looked up.
“Why?””
My father rubbed his forehead.
“Because when you were born, there was a dispute involving your mother's former business partner.””
“Who?””
He hesitated.
“Vivienne's son.””
I blinked.
“Grandmother had a son?””
Vivienne, who had followed us, nodded slowly.
“His name was Thomas Laurent.””
My father continued.
“Thomas worked with Margaret on the early collection. He and your mother were close. Their relationship became complicated.””
I stared at him.
“Are you saying Thomas was my biological father?””
He looked at me.
“Yes.””
The room went silent.
I sat down.
For a moment, I couldn't process anything.
My father continued quickly.
“But that doesn't change who raised you. I adopted you legally when you were a baby. I chose to be your father.””
I looked at the papers.
“Why did nobody tell me?””
“Your mother wanted to protect you from the family dispute. Thomas had left the country before you were born. He had no interest in raising a child.””
Vivienne closed her eyes.
“That isn't entirely true.””
My father turned.
“Vivienne?””
She looked at me.
“Thomas wanted to be involved. But I refused to allow him to return while the financial dispute with Margaret remained unresolved.””
I stared.
“You kept my biological father away?””
Vivienne's eyes filled.
“I thought I was protecting the family.””
I shook my head.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
I stood.
“Everyone has been protecting me from something, and somehow I'm the only person who has never been allowed to know the truth.””
Vivienne lowered her head.
“You're right.””
I turned toward my father.
“Does the adoption affect the trust?””
He shook his head.
“No. Margaret specifically named you as the beneficiary, regardless of biological parentage.””
Eleanor examined the document.
“That is correct. The trust is based on Margaret's legal declaration. The adoption doesn't invalidate your ownership.””
I exhaled.
Then my father reached into the metal box again.
He removed a small photograph.
A man stood beside my mother.
He had dark hair, a warm smile, and the same eyes I saw in the mirror every morning.
On the back was a handwritten message.
For my daughter, Camille. I hope one day she'll understand that leaving was never what I wanted.
I stared at it.
“Where is he?””
Vivienne looked at the photograph.
“Thomas disappeared fifteen years ago.””
“Is he alive?””
She didn't answer.
Then my phone rang.
An international number.
I answered cautiously.
“Hello?””
A man's voice spoke.
“Camille?””
“Yes.””
There was a long pause.
“My name is Thomas Laurent.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
He continued.
“I know this is unexpected, but I've been trying to reach you for months.””
I looked at Vivienne.
She had gone completely still.
“Why are you calling me now?””
His voice trembled.
“Because your mother left something with me before she died.””
“What?””
“A letter. And the original recording of the night Vanessa destroyed the first Night Bat collection.””
I felt my heart race.
“Where are you?””
“London.””
He paused.
“And Camille, there's something else.””
“What?””
“I know who really forged the original ownership documents.””
I swallowed.
“Vanessa?””
“No.””
The silence stretched.
Then he whispered:
“It was someone your mother trusted more than anyone.””
I looked toward my father.
He was staring at me.
Thomas continued.
“Camille, the person who destroyed your mother's career wasn't Vanessa.””
I gripped the phone.
“Who was it?””
His answer made the entire room go cold.
“Your father.””
I slowly lowered the phone.
Richard Bellamy stood across from me.
The man who had raised me.
The man who had apologized.
The man who had promised to help me reclaim my mother's work.
May you like
He looked at the photograph in my hand.
And for the first time, he didn't deny anything.
