Chapter 15
The next week, Camille and Aaron shot the final scenes of Esther where they appeared together on screen.
Camille arrived on set already in costume, Esther’s authority fully formed.
Aaron was waiting when she stepped onto the soundstage. He didn’t say her name. He didn’t need to. His hand found the small of her back instinctively, thumb pressing lightly as she leaned into him, her fingers catching in the fabric of his sleeve as if letting go required effort.
They separated only because they had to.
“Morning,” he said, brushing his knuckles against her wrist as he stepped back.
She smiled at him. “Morning.”
They moved through the blocking together, close enough that their arms brushed, their bodies angled toward each other even when the scene didn’t demand it. Whenever Aaron spoke to her as director, his voice was calm, precise—but his eyes never stopped searching her face.
Between setups, Camille reached for him without thinking—fingers slipping into his palm, a brief squeeze, reassurance and hunger all at once.
On camera, Esther’s final request unfolded with breathtaking calm. She stood beside the king, her presence assured, her voice steady. There was no urgency left—only peace.
The silence after her final line stretched longer than scripted.
No one rushed to break it.
“Cut,” Aaron said at last, his voice thick with emotion he didn’t try to hide.
The crew applauded softly.
Someone murmured, “That was beautiful.”
Another added, less quietly than intended, “They’re incredible together.”
Camille felt warmth rise to her cheeks. Aaron cleared his throat and turned away.
As the set broke down, Camille removed Esther’s crown slowly, reverently. Aaron came to her, hands warm on her arms.
“That was amazing,” he said.
She leaned into him, forehead against his chest. “We gave it everything.”
“Yes,” he said, holding her close. “And it shows.”
They stayed that way longer than professionalism allowed, neither willing to be the first to step away.
“Tomorrow is Mordecai,” she said eventually, her voice muffled against him.
Aaron exhaled. “And Esther rests.”
She looked up at him, love bright and undeniable in her eyes. “Thank you for your incredible direction, director.”
He smiled, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “thank you for submitting to my direction, Queen Esther.”
~*~*~*~
“She hates to be cold,” Aaron muttered.
“What’s that?” his father, Robert, asked.
Aaron turned to him, phone in hand. “I was just looking at this script for a movie the studio wants me to direct. I’m willing and want Camille to be the lead actress.
Honestly, I think it would be the perfect vehicle for her.
It’s about a professional skier who finds faith after being injured in a skiing accident.
They’ve offered me the opportunity to both act and direct.
I love the spiritual arc, the romance. I really think Camille would be amazing but it’s set in Switzerland.
” He hesitated. “I don’t know how she’d cope with that climate. ”
“You really love her, don’t you?”
“Yeah, Dad. I do. After Scarlette, I didn’t think I could ever find anyone who matched me so perfectly again.”
“And now?”
“Now I know she’s the one. I can’t explain it. The way I feel about her—it’s just right. She’s the opposite of Scarlette. Quieter. More introspective. But I appreciate the ways she’s different and the ways she’s similar.” He paused. “What do you think about that?”
“I think you’re in love. But just a word of caution.”
“What’s that?”
“Spend some time getting to know each other away from the set. See if you feel the same way when she’s not playing a part, when you’re not both playing parts—when the layers are peeled away.”
“I don’t think it will make a difference.”
“Maybe not. But I’ve seen how people get involved on sets. They personify their characters. They fall in love with who the character represents. And when they return to real life, the person standing in front of them isn’t who they imagined.”
“I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. I’m fully aware that Camille is no Esther. And I’m pretty sure she doesn’t think I’m Xerxes. In fact, I hope not—he was deeply flawed.”
“Yes, but the movie doesn’t focus on that. It focuses on the times he’s brave, awestruck, deeply in love with his queen.”
“Dad, I’ve spent the last few months getting to know Camille on a personal level. You know that. We’ve spent significant time together. At church. After church. Bible study.”
“You’ve also had emotionally charged scenes.
You’ve been holed up together for weeks.
You said it yourself—when you’re not filming, you’re spending weekends together, some weeknights too.
When you both return to the real world, it won’t be like this.
Already you’re looking for ways to keep the two of you together during filming.
Suppose you take this movie and she’s not selected as the lead actress.
Now you’re holed up somewhere in the Alps with a woman who isn’t Camille—and she won’t come visit because she hates the cold.
Or maybe she can’t because she’s shooting somewhere else. You see where I’m going with this.”
“Why are you trying to discourage me?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re being very negative.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“How did you and Mom survive you filming overseas with other women early in your career?”
“Not easily. At first she traveled with me. But when she started her own career, it became challenging. That’s when I made certain choices to protect my marriage.”
Aaron exhaled deeply. “You’re killing me, Dad.”
“Just something to think about. You may not be able to have it all, Aaron—the movie-star wife, the hotshot director career, and a thriving marriage.”
Aaron didn’t like any of this.
As they moved into the next scene, it stayed with him.
~*~*~*~
It was, perhaps, the best-kept secret in Hollywood that week.
Camille slipped onto the Shadow Peak set just after dawn.
No entourage. No announcement.
Simon himself waited near the soundstage entrance, as though he had been watching for her. His blond good looks—once so magnetic—now made her stomach turn. She saw past the polish. Past the tailored jacket and easy smile.
He stepped forward smoothly. “You look beautiful, Camille. Love the disguise, by the way. Wouldn’t have known it was you rolling in here if you weren’t driving the Benz.”
She didn’t respond to the compliment. The oversized sunglasses shielded her eyes; a baseball cap concealed her hair. Jeans and a loose shirt erased her silhouette.
“I want to sign the agreement before we start anything.”
“Of course.” He gestured toward the production offices. “It’s in my office. Ready for your signature.”
“And I have your word that everyone here is on a gag order.”
He smiled faintly. “Nothing is going to be leaked to the press—or heads will roll.”
She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. But she did notice the skeletal crew—essential personnel only. No unnecessary assistants. No gossip-hungry interns. No background chatter.
The script had been modified as requested. No gratuitous violence. No harsh profanity. No nudity.
According to the storyline, Aradia returned to Shadow Peak after a long disappearance. She claimed she had been kidnapped—that she had freed herself. She sought reconciliation. Declared she had changed. Had seen the light. Promised to be a righteous queen.
No more scheming. No more bloodshed.
It was parody.
The subtext wasn’t subtle. The mocking tone mirrored Camille’s own public conversion to Christianity.
She felt it. The irony. The sneer embedded between the lines. But she didn’t react. She was here for one reason and one reason only. To stop the lawsuit that could stall Aaron’s film.
The climactic arc required Aradia to reclaim her throne and oust her younger sister, who had ruled in her absence.
Except—cliffhanger. Her sister rose in the final moments and exposed the truth: Aradia had not been kidnapped.
She had abandoned her people to save herself.
She did not deserve the crown. The betrayal came swiftly.
A blade in the back. The final words echoing across the throne room: The queen is dead. Long live the queen.
Camille played it to the hilt.
The choreography of the confrontation. The emotional beats. The stunt coordination. The dramatic lighting.
Thursday, Friday, Saturday went smoothly.
When Aaron called in the evenings, she was careful. Vague.
“I’m catching up on a few things I couldn’t do while filming Esther,” she told him.
It wasn’t technically a lie. She could not have filmed Shadow Peak while filming Esther. Still, conviction pricked at her conscience. She felt the slope beneath her feet—subtle, slippery. She chose to focus on the end rather than the means.
Sunday morning brought the reckoning.
Call time: 7:00 a.m.
At 7:45, her phone vibrated.
Aaron.
She stepped between sets, heart pounding.
“Hi,” she answered softly, breathless.
“Hey, hon. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Oh no, not at all.” She motioned to the director that she needed a moment. He looked displeased. They hadn’t exactly reconciled since her abrupt exit from the series. In his eyes, she was still the temperamental star who had walked away.
“What’s up?” she asked, moving farther from the noise.
“I’m not having the luncheon today. Just wanted you to know.”
Relief flooded her. She had been dreading that conversation—how to explain her absence without lying outright.
“Okay. That’s fine.”
“The reason is I’m dining with my parents. They’re celebrating their wedding anniversary. All of us kids are spending the day with them. Madison and I are even attending their church.”
Her heart lifted. This was working out better than she could have orchestrated.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said warmly.
“The reason I’m calling,” he continued, “is that I want you to come with me.”
Her breath caught. “Uh…”