Chapter 23
POV: Camille:?
I had always imagined betrayal would feel..different. That I would feel smaller.
But in reality, it felt more like drowning. Silent, disorienting, as though every time I clawed my way toward air and another wave of truth dragged me back under.
And Michael Vanderbilt’s secrets hadn’t just cracked the foundation between us—they’d taken a sledgehammer to it.
Now I couldn’t stop wondering—how much of him was real, and how much was a carefully polished illusion, was he toying with me when he said ‘this was real’ to him, was he trying to get a rise out of me, to make another young girl fall for him, jjust as he planned? Did I really know him?
I didn’t have an answer. Not a single answer.
Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Pathetic, hopeless Camille. You always know when to dig yourself deeper into a hole.
As I walked through the once perfect halls of Vanderbilt Enterprises, I realized that it was all just that—a perfect facade.
I was still replaying the discovery from last night—contracts tucked between innocuous files, names that didn’t add up, and deals that weren’t just morally gray but flat out corrupt.
And then the file from his past—the fraud investigation, documented proof that Michael Vanderbilt wasn’t the spotless billionaire the world worshiped.
He had lied and worse, he had made me believe in him.
“Camille.”
Marsha’s clipped voice snapped me back to reality. She stood by my desk with her arms crossed. “There’s an executive meeting in our boardroom, right now.”
Of course.
My stomach twisted as I gathered my notepad and when I reached the double doors of the executive boardroom, I hesitated. For once, I wasn’t sure I could survive the weight of his presence but I pushed through anyway.
Michael sat at the head of the table, his composure and presence was perfect as always. The perfect image of control. If I hadn’t seen the truth buried in his files, I would have believed it.
The room was filled with executives, the kind who usually orbited him like planets pulled by his gravity but today, there was a fissure in the air.
A client’s voice rang out over the speakerphone. “Mr. Vanderbilt, we’ve reviewed your licensing proposal. Some of the clauses concern us…the kickbacks and side agreements. We don’t appreciate being blindsided.”
My pen froze over my notepad.
Kickbacks and side agreements.
Michael’s voice was dismissive. “Safeguards, nothing more. You have my assurance.”
The client wasn’t convinced. “If this is how Vanderbilt Technologies operates, we’ll need time to consider.” Then the line clicked dead.
Silence followed.
The executives shifted, uneasy and no one dared speak but I saw it in their eyes—the first spark of doubt.
But Michael moved on like nothing had happened, flipping to the next agenda page but I thought I saw it, his jaw was tighter than usual as his hand clenched around his pen. The cracks were widening. He was slipping.
Or was this what he wanted me to see?
After the meeting, the others filed out quickly as whispers trailed behind them but I stayed, pretending like I was going over notes for contract clauses.
In reality, I couldn’t leave without answers, again.
Michael looked up briefly, sensing me there before he turned his gaze back downwards. “Yes, Ms. Martens?”
“You lied to me,” I said, feeling the pain well inside me again.
He arched his brow. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Were you ever planning to tell me or was I supposed to find out when the Federal government comes knocking on the door?”
His lip twitched. “Careful, Camille.”
“Don’t,” I snapped back at him. “Don’t act like I’m some reckless child who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You’ve built an empire through whatever means you found necessary without carrying who it will affect. And I don’t know if I’m angrier that you did it,
or that you thought I wouldn’t notice, you’ve treated me like I’m some fragile girl, who can be fooled.”
He didn’t look up. “I do not think of you as that, Camille.”
“Then what, Michael?” I almost yelled, trying to keep my gaze down on the paperwork instead so no one would notice.
He exhaled slowly then looked up at me. “My father built this company on fraud, Camille and by the time I inherited it, the walls were already crumbling in. It was decades of fraud and if I hadn’t acted, Vanderbilt Technologies would have collapsed within a year’s time.
Thousands of employees would be gone and relationships with investors would be ruined. I did what I had to do, Camille.”
I stared at him, my voice soft but harsh. “By lying? By burying evidence? By using people like chess pieces?”
“By protecting what was mine. This company and it’s people, even you.”
That stopped me in my tracks.
“Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t twist this into some kind of noble excuse. You didn’t protect me…you used me and you’ve been using me since the day I signed that contract.”
Michael stood to his feet abruptly and pressed his palms flat against the desk. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I wanted you to find out like this?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore! I don’t even know who you are!”
“You know more of me than anyone else ever has,” he replied flatly.
It sounded like it was truth. It sounded like it meant something.
But whoever knows with Michael Vanderbilt.
It was meant to be a confession or maybe even an olive branch but it only made me angrier, because knowing him meant knowing the lies, too.
My throat ached, but I forced the words out. “Then maybe that’s the problem.”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Finally, I gathered my notepad, shoving it into my bag and not looking at him. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Camille…”
But I was already moving away from him. I didn’t look back, not once.
And for the first time since I’d met Michael Vanderbilt, I left his office before he could stop me.
The hallways outside felt heavy and I didn’t go back to my cubicle. I couldn’t sit there pretending to draft legal memos while my entire world unraveled. Instead, I found myself in a deserted stairwell.
What had I gotten myself into?
The company was teetering on the edge. Clients were already questioning them, and it was only a matter of time before someone went public. Michael’s pristine reputation was cracked.
And me? I was tethered to him by contract.
If the empire collapsed, I would go down with it, either professionally or personally.
By late afternoon, the rumors were already circling—about the contracts, about nervous investors, about board members asking questions. But not a word about Michael’s personal life, thank god, at least that was a plus.
I sat in my apartment that night and just tried to process it all.
Michael Vanderbilt—the man who had looked at me like I was more than a pawn—the man who had kissed me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this earth—the man who had lied through his teeth to protect his empire—the man I questioned even truly knowing.
I wanted to hate him. I should have hated him.
But the truth was messier than that because beneath the anger and betrayal, there was still the memory of his hand brushing mine, of his voice saying my name like it mattered.
And that was the most dangerous truth of all.
I was even further behind than when I began.
I had doubts of ending things, but things were further gone than before.
I didn’t want to continue like this contracted and surrounded by lies and with the distance from Michael.
But I didn’t know what would come next. For Michael or for the company or for us.
But as I sat there staring at my ceiling, I knew one thing for certain—there was no going back from what happened.