Chapter 16
Day four of Shadow Peak filming found Camille delivering her lines with accuracy. If she could just get through the episodes cleanly, efficiently, maybe all your anxiety would quiet down too.
She had arrived bright and early after a restless night. Sleep had refused to come easily. Every time she drifted off, her mind replayed dinner at the Cortelli’s. Aaron’s family had been so warm. So welcoming. So… wholesome. The kind of wholesome she had only ever seen on television.
Unlike her own family. Unlike, if she were honest, any family she had personally known.
The memory made her chest ache.
Guilt followed quickly behind it.
She hated the deceit. Hated that she had sat at their table smiling, knowing she was withholding truth. But what choice did she have? She had done what she had to do. She was protecting Aaron. That had to count for something. Wasn’t it better to lie now than for him to be hurt later?
She had tossed and turned all night between those two verdicts, prosecuting and defending herself in equal measure.
Simon wasn’t on set when she arrived, which felt like a small mercy. But he appeared about an hour later, just as she was in costume with her makeup being touched up.
He came over and stood there, watching her reflection in the mirror for a long moment.
“More makeup under the eyes,” he said to the makeup artist. Then to Camille, “Have you recovered from yesterday?”
She nodded. “Mostly.”
“Did you get the rest you needed? Your eyes look a little heavy.”
She nodded again.
“I’ll take care of the heaviness,” the makeup artist said almost apologetically. “Nothing a little concealer can’t fix.”
“Good,” Simon said. “This will be the big scene today. The crescendo. Lots of close ups, Andrew tells me. You need to look perfect.”
Camille didn’t respond. Perfect. Of course.
“Also you’re going to need to pull a later night so that we can regain ground that we lost yesterday.”
There it was.
She nodded slightly. Not surprised. She had known Simon would find a way to make her pay for her early departure.
“And it’s likely we’ll have to shoot at least half a day tomorrow too.”
Still she said nothing. Didn’t argue. Didn’t bristle. Simply inclined her head in agreement.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the flicker of confusion cross his face. No defiance. No attitude. Just compliance. He wasn’t used to this version of her and it showed.
Unsure what to make of her, he turned on his heel and left.
Camille exhaled slowly.
Positioning herself to inhabit Aradia again had become… complicated. It used to feel thrilling, like slipping into something tailored just for her. Now it felt more like putting on someone else’s used clothes. They fit, technically. But they weren’t hers.
Still, she needed to do it. And do it well.
A moment later she was under the lights, playing her role as if nothing inside her was fractured.
Three hours later, when shooting for that particular scene finally broke, she checked her phone and saw that Aaron had called three times.
He would be finishing his last scene that day.
She retreated into her trailer and dialed him back.
“Hi babe,” she said. “Sorry I missed your calls. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to tell you that I wrapped up shooting. I’m so elated, I want to celebrate tonight. Was thinking about swinging by your place about 5:30 p.m. so that we can have an early dinner and then just hang out together at the beach.”
It sounded glorious. The beach at dusk. No cameras. No scripts. Just them.
She almost said yes.
Then Simon’s voice echoed in her mind. Late night. Half a day tomorrow.
She mentally did the math. Union rules didn’t allow them to go beyond fifteen hours without the studio paying out massive amounts in golden time.
That could take filming up to 9 p.m. She could plead fatigue then.
But if she was required to be back on set at 6 a.m. the next day, she would need to go straight home and get whatever beauty sleep she could salvage.
She swallowed.
“Oh, babe. I’m really happy for you. Thing is… I won’t be available tonight. How about tomorrow night? I will definitely be available then.”
“Okay... sure. What are you so busy doing anyway? I would have thought with your part over you would just be breezing,” he said teasingly.
She gave an uneasy laugh. “You would say that because you’re a man. You know us women always busy with this and that.” She pivoted quickly. “But since you’re going to have some down time now, this may be the time to discuss that trip to Barbados you promised me.”
He laughed. “I promised you that?”
“Yes, you did.”
“I was actually contemplating taking Madison with me and flying down to Barbados and connecting with some of my friends and family there for a few days. I suppose you could accompany us. Let’s discuss it tomorrow when I see you.”
“Yeah. Can’t wait,” she said quickly. “Anyway, I’ve got to run. We’ll talk later.”
She ended the call and sat there for a moment, staring at her reflection in the trailer mirror.
~*~*~*~
Aaron hung up feeling lighter than air.
He really was in love with Camille. Not infatuated. Not dazzled. In love. He missed her constantly and wanted to be with her in ways that felt both urgent and peaceful at the same time.
He was seriously thinking about asking her to be his wife.
It sounded insane when he measured it objectively. They had only become romantically involved less than a month ago. Less than a month. But he just knew. She was the one for him. He didn’t see the point in delaying what felt inevitable.
He remembered his father saying he didn’t really know Camille away from a set.
But what did that matter?
He knew her heart. He knew her character. He had seen her tenderness, her vulnerability, her fire. That was enough.
Barbados suddenly felt like the perfect place.
Sun, sea, something sacred in the air. Once she accepted, they could work out the logistics—where they would live, work, build their life.
Those were details. A lifelong commitment was the hard part.
Once that decision was made, everything else would fall into place.
That’s how it had been with Scarlette.
They had married soon after they started seeing each other, and then she had decided to embark on her apparel design career. Everything had fit into place remarkably well.
Why should this be any different?
Now that filming was over, he would take a short break. Clear his head. Cement things with Camille. Then phase two would begin.
~*~*~*~
The Shadow Peak filming was over. Done. Forever.
Camille slammed the car door, leaned her head back against the seat, and exhaled slowly, deliberately—savoring the moment. It was over. She had made her sacrifice. She owed Simon nothing any longer. She could live her life now in freedom. This episode was behind her.
She reached forward and started the ignition.
A knock sounded against her window. She looked up to see one of the key grips standing there.
“Camille, Simon wants to have a word before you go.”
She froze. Annoyance flared hot and immediate. She stared at him through the glass, genuinely debating whether she should ignore him and drive away. She wanted to do that so badly.
But she didn’t want any loose ends with Simon. She wanted to be certain—absolutely certain—that everything was squared once and for all. Andrew had assured her there were no reshoots, no problems, nothing pending.
Still. One never quite knew with Simon the Snake.
She thanked the man, reached over with a sigh, and turned off the ignition. Grabbing her bag, she stepped out and headed toward the production office.
Simon’s office was cool and dim compared to the bright California afternoon outside.
The blinds were half-drawn, slicing the room into neat bands of light and shadow.
A faint scent of expensive cologne and freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air.
His desk was immaculate. Laptop centered.
Folders stacked neatly at a corner of his desk. Not a single thing out of place.
Simon sat behind the desk, typing on his laptop.
When she entered, he looked up, his expression smoothing into something pleasant.
“Hi. Have a seat,” he said.
She remained standing a second longer than necessary before lowering herself into the chair opposite him.
She glanced at her watch. It was 2:45 p.m. Dinner with Aaron was at 5:30.
She had an hour’s drive home, and she had planned a luxurious bath—time to unwind, to breathe, to prepare herself properly. Now the window was shrinking.
Simon followed her motion.
“I won’t keep you long,” he said lightly. “I just wanted a few words. First, thank you for agreeing to this. It really does help us recover what we lost when you left the show.” He folded his hands on the desk. “I’m glad you finally saw reason.”
The nerve.
As though she had had a choice after his threats.
She kept her face neutral and waited.
“I also wanted to go over next steps,” he continued smoothly, “and just advise you not to stray too far from home base for the next few weeks.”
She blinked. “Wait—what next steps? What are you talking about? I thought I was done here.”
A small smile curved his mouth. He gave a brief shake of his head, almost indulgent.
“Not quite. We’ll need you for post-production and promotional commitments. Standard wrap process. We want to make sure the scene impacts the way it should—and that the audience is fully invested when we roll into next season.”
Her stomach tightened. “This wasn’t part of what I signed up for. I didn’t agree to any of that.” Her voice rose despite herself.
“Yes, you did,” he replied calmly.
He reached for a folder on his desk as if he had anticipated this exact moment. He flipped it open and turned it toward himself, scanning.