Chapter 33

**Camille's point of view**

But as I climbed into bed, silk sheets cool against my skin, one thought crystallized in my mind.

Tomorrow, I'd have to face whatever came next. Not as Camille Lewis, that broken woman was truly dead now. Not as Victoria's carefully crafted project.

But as the woman Alexander Pierce had dared to expose.

And this time, I wasn't running.

** ***

Sleep never came.

I showered instead, letting hot water wash away the last traces of tonight's ...