CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW

The black car moved through morning fog, tires humming against wet roads. I stared out the window, watching trees blur into gray mist. Victoria sat beside me, her face a mask of calm, but her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on her leather bag.

"Where are we going?" I asked, breaking the silence that had stretched between us since we left the mansion thirty minutes ago. The papers making me officially Camille Kane had been signed ...