Betrayal and Heartbreak

Panic surged through Camilla’s veins. With a frantic burst of adrenaline, she scrambled away from the luggage rack and threw herself into the cramped, stifling darkness of the suite's closet just as the lights flickered on and the heavy door swung wide. She pulled the louvered doors shut, leaving only a narrow gap to peek through.

She held her breath, pressing her spine flat against the back wall. Her hands shook with such force she could barely maintain a steady grip on her smartphone. She fumbled with the screen, her thumbs clumsy and slick with cold sweat, but managed to hit the record button. The camera lens focused on the illuminated hotel room through the thin slivers of the closet door.

Through the narrow gap, she watched as the heavy wooden door clicked shut. The voice of her older sister, Vanessa, echoed in the quiet room. It was a voice that had always brought Camilla a sense of comfort and warmth, but right now, it was laced with sharp annoyance.

“I told you not to drink so much,” Vanessa scolded, dropping her designer purse onto a nearby chair.

“What are you so angry about?” Donovan’s familiar voice responded. His words were slightly slurred but layered with a playful, teasing tone. “Didn’t we just come back to the hotel together?”

Each syllable crashed against Camilla's senses like physical blows. She slapped a hand over her own mouth to stifle a gasp, her fingers pressing hard against her lips. Through the sliver of space, she watched the two of them step fully into the light.

Vanessa turned her back to him, reaching behind to fiddle with the clasp of her dress. “Let me help you,” Donovan offered, his tone dropping an octave.

Camilla watched in excruciating agony as Donovan stepped up behind Vanessa and pulled her close. His hands slid down her bare back to grip the zipper of her dress, pulling it down smoothly. He gently moved her long blonde hair aside, burying his face in her neck. He pressed eager, passionate kisses against her pale skin.

The sheer physical pain in Camilla's chest was suffocating. Her heart felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise. Every touch, every kiss she witnessed through that small gap was a brutal confirmation of Maximus Sinclair’s warnings. This was not some corporate trick. This was real. None of it was a lie.

“Shall we bathe together?” Donovan murmured against Vanessa’s skin, his hands resting on her waist.

“You smell bad.” Vanessa pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. “I told you not to drink. You know I dislike that smell. Aw!” Vanessa squeaked as Donovan poked her ribs. “What— Hey— stop tickling me! I am still in my heels! Ah!”

Donovan chuckled, a deep and throaty sound that Camilla used to love. He playfully scooped Vanessa up into his arms, carrying her across the room with ease. He dropped her onto the large king-size bed and hovered over her, supporting his weight on his elbows. Their giggles and flirtatious murmurs filled the suite, making Camilla feel physically sick. The bile rose in the back of her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to block out the sight, but the sounds were inescapable.

“Do you still dislike how I smell?” Donovan smirked, his voice dripping with sweetness.

“Hmph! Stop acting cute. You’re not.”

“Really?”

“Really!” Vanessa complained, her tone shifting to a whine. “And you lied to me. You said we would stay here for a week.”

“The meeting is only for three days. Camilla would know if I stayed longer.”

Vanessa scoffed, her annoyance returning in full force. “You already spend most of your time with her at home. What’s wrong with spending a few days with me? Aren’t you leaving her soon?”

Camilla nearly dropped her phone. The raw, visceral pain tearing at her chest froze, replaced by a sudden, icy shock. What was Vanessa talking about? She pressed her ear closer to the louvered doors, her jaw clenched tight. She forced herself to keep the camera steady, recording every single word.

“She turns twenty-six very soon,” Donovan chuckled. His hands roamed freely over Vanessa's body, caressing her sides, his fingers trailing over her skin with practiced ease. “You know I cannot leave her just yet.”

Vanessa shifted under him, her expression serious. “She has yet to promise you that she will give you her corporate shares, even if you are not married. How confident are you that you can secure those shares without any strings attached?”

“Can we stop talking about something so irrelevant right now?” Donovan dipped his head, peppering Vanessa’s jaw and neck with more kisses.

Vanessa pushed him back slightly, her hands flat against his chest. “I am getting impatient, Donovan. I have been waiting in the shadows for two long years.”

Two years.

Tears spilled over Camilla’s lower lashes, tracking hot and fast down her cheeks in the dark closet. Two years? Donovan and Vanessa had been sleeping together behind her back for two whole years? She stood there, listening to her own sister and her boyfriend discuss her like a piece of property to be plundered. A dull dagger twisted in her gut, destroying her from the inside out.

Donovan cooed softly, brushing a stray blonde curl from Vanessa’s face to soothe her. “Her birthday is only a month away, babe,” he reminded her gently.

“I know… I just…”

Before Vanessa could finish her sentence, Donovan reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, luxurious velvet box and flipped it open.

Vanessa gasped, her eyes widening in shock. “You—”

Donovan helped her sit up against the pillows. “Will you marry me?” he asked, staring deep into her eyes. “Of course, we will make it official the moment I successfully secure Camilla's shares.”

Vanessa stared at the diamond ring sparkling in the dim light, her mouth hanging open. Tears of joy welled up in her bright blue eyes. “Yes!” she wept, throwing her arms around Donovan’s neck. She pulled him back down onto the mattress.

Donovan’s mouth crashed down on Vanessa’s, their bodies tangling together on the bed sheets. Vanessa wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against her as they kissed hungrily. Unable to endure another second of the heartbreaking spectacle, Camilla knew she had to get out. As Donovan’s hands moved to discard his shirt, shifting his attention fully to Vanessa, Camilla seized the brief moment of distraction.

She pushed the closet doors open just enough to squeeze her body through. Her bare feet made no sound on the thick carpet. She slipped quietly out of the room, fleeing the suite in a state of numb, dizzying shock.

The heavy door clicked shut behind her, sealing away the sounds of their intimacy. Camilla practically sprinted down the hallway, her vision blurred by endless tears. She reached her own room, swiped her key card with trembling fingers, and threw herself inside.

The moment the deadbolt engaged, the last of her strength evaporated. She collapsed onto the hard carpeted floor. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with heavy, heart-wrenching sobs. The betrayal, the heartbreak, and the overwhelming sense of loss clung to her. She grabbed a bottle of liquor from the mini-bar, drinking straight from the neck. She curled her knees to her chest, crying into the empty silence of her room until her throat turned raw and her mind went blank.

The next morning, harsh sunlight poured through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The bright rays sliced across the bed, forcing Camilla to stir. Her eyelids felt heavy and swollen, crusted with dried tears. A pounding headache hammered at her temples, the severe consequence of a night spent drinking and crying herself into exhaustion.

She groaned, shifting her weight on the mattress. As she tried to sit up and clear her foggy, hungover thoughts, a deep, commanding voice broke the silence of the room.

“Awake?”

Camilla gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes snapped open, and she jolted upright. Her pale face darted around the room until her gaze landed on a figure seated in the armchair beside her bed.

Maximus Sinclair.

He sat calmly, exuding an imposing aura, dressed in a flawless black suit. His hair was brushed back immaculately, highlighting his sharp, intimidating facial features. His steady, dark brown eyes locked onto her green ones.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, her voice hoarse. She struggled to move, her head throbbing with every heartbeat, her limbs feeling like lead.

Then the cold air of the room hit her bare skin. She looked down.

Panic spiked in her chest. She was wearing only her lace underwear. She had spent the entire night drinking and crying on the floor, eventually crawling onto the bed. She had fallen asleep before she could change into pajamas or take a shower.

A sudden wave of intense embarrassment rushed over her. She frantically grabbed the thick white bedsheets, yanking them up to her chin to cover her exposed chest and legs. She glared at him, her face flushing hot.

“What are you doing in my room?” she snapped, gripping the blankets tight.

Maximus looked at her with utter seriousness. His expression did not waver, and his eyes did not stray from her face.

“Business,” he stated simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Shall we talk?”