Chapter 3
Sophia
Past midnight, I sat on the living room sofa with Netflix auto-playing unwatched episodes.
The sound of keys turning in the lock interrupted my thoughts.
Camden stumbled in, tie loosened and hair disheveled. Even from several feet away, I could smell the cocktail of scents clinging to him: expensive whiskey, cigar smoke, and—most noticeably—a woman's perfume that wasn't mine.
"You're still up?" He looked surprised.
"Waiting for you," I said softly, walking toward him and gently straightening his crooked tie. "How was the meeting?"
His body visibly relaxed, clearly relieved. "Long and boring," he lied so naturally, "but signed a few important clients."
I smiled and leaned closer, deliberately inhaling the unfamiliar perfume. His body instantly tensed, but I maintained my smile.
"I warmed some milk for you," I gestured toward the kitchen. "You know how much I care about your health."
Confusion flashed across Camden's face, obviously thrown by my reaction. Usually, we'd have a massive fight by now, then he'd calm me down with promises that it was the last time. But tonight was different—I'd changed the script.
"How are the party preparations coming along?" he quickly changed the subject, accepting the mug I handed him.
"Everything's on schedule," I said. "All the details you requested have been arranged."
Camden took a sip of milk, his expression suddenly turning eager. "This party is crucial for the business, baby. I need you to be your most perfect self."
I leaned against the kitchen island, maintaining my flawless smile while my heart turned to ice.
"Of course, it's our ten-year anniversary. I'll make sure everyone remembers this night," I said softly. "You'll get the perfect ending you want, just not the one you're expecting."
Camden frowned slightly, but I interrupted his thoughts with a kiss. He wrapped his arm around my waist, expertly steering the conversation back to party details and the VIP guest list. I pretended to focus intently, mentally counting down the days until my complete liberation.
The next morning, Camden dressed meticulously, preparing to leave.
"Emergency meeting with investors at noon," he said, adjusting his cufflinks. "Should run late into the evening, so don't hold dinner."
I nodded, brushing invisible lint from his shoulders and smoothing his lapels. "Go ahead, I'll stay here and continue planning the party details."
The moment the door closed, my smile vanished instantly. The clock started ticking—Camden's "meeting" would last at least eight hours, giving me plenty of time to act.
I walked straight to his study and quickly opened his filing cabinet. Camden always believed I had zero interest in his business, a confidence that made him careless. Most folders contained legitimate club operation documents, but in the bottom drawer, I discovered a hidden compartment.
With a gentle press, the compartment opened, revealing a small safe.
The safe contained thick bundles of cash—at least fifty thousand dollars—and three passports from different countries, all with Camden's photo but different names.
"So you've had escape routes ready all along," I muttered, taking photos of the passports and cash.
Next came his computer.
His email inbox was flooded with unread messages, but I searched directly for key terms: "money laundering," "offshore," "cash." Several emails immediately popped up, all exchanges between Camden and his club partner, James.
"...cash payments from clients need to be moved through three different accounts, then used to purchase artwork, then..."
"...tax authorities are coming next week, make sure all documents are prepared as we discussed..."
My heart raced. Camden wasn't just a cheater; he was a criminal. I quickly saved screenshots of these emails and continued searching. In a folder marked "Private," I discovered more photos with Melody and—disgustingly—detailed memos outlining how he planned to "gracefully" end our relationship after the ten-year anniversary party.
At eight that evening, I sat at my own laptop, connecting with Raven through an encrypted application.
"Find anything?" Her voice came through my earbuds.
"More than I imagined," I replied, uploading the files and photos I'd collected. "Camden isn't just cheating; he's involved in money laundering, tax fraud, and possibly worse crimes."
Raven whistled. "This bastard is darker than I thought."
"Initially I thought we should just cancel the party and disappear," I said, "but with what I've found, that seems too merciful."
"Damn right," Raven agreed. "Why cancel his precious party when we can turn it into his judgment day? The bigger the audience, the harder the fall."
I continued browsing through files and suddenly discovered some system architecture documents. "Rav, look at this. All of Camden's clubs use the same central system to manage bookings, memberships, and billing."
"Interesting," she said. "You know, these systems usually have backdoors. Give me a minute."
A few minutes later, Raven sent a message. "Found it. The system has a serious vulnerability. If we can get admin privileges, we can access all data and even plant our own code."
"But how do we get admin privileges?" I asked.
"You need to contact his IT manager," Raven explained. "Use the party as an excuse, say you need to upgrade the systems for the event."
It was a risky plan, but I had no choice. I picked up my phone and dialed the number of Camden's club IT manager.
"Mike, it's Sophia. Camden mentioned we need special lighting and sound systems for the party, and I wanted to confirm the details..."
Twenty minutes later, I hung up, grinning. "Done," I told Raven. "He gave me temporary admin credentials, thinking I need them to test the equipment for the party night."
"Perfect," Raven's voice was filled with accomplishment. "Now we can—"
Suddenly, I heard the front door unlocking. "Camden's back," I said quickly. "I'll contact you tomorrow."
I rapidly closed the encrypted communication and switched my screen to a wedding dress design website. Camden staggered in, obviously having had several drinks.
"You're back early," I said, genuine surprise in my voice.
"Fucking investors pulled out," he muttered, loosening his tie. "Said they heard rumors about financial irregularities." He poured himself a whiskey and collapsed heavily onto the sofa beside me.
"How was the meeting?" I asked with feigned concern.
He didn't answer, just took a long sip of his drink, staring blankly at the wall.
"You've changed lately," he said abruptly, his words slightly slurred from alcohol. "Become too... perfect. Sometimes I miss that girl who used to laugh without consequences."
I froze, feeling a cold fury wash over me. He had molded this perfect girlfriend, and now he missed the original me?
"Maybe it's the pressure of the party," I said softly, controlling my emotions. "I just want everything to be perfect."
Camden shook his head, taking another sip of his drink. "It's not just the party. Truth is, finances aren't great, and we need to attract new investors. I need you at your absolute best."
I feigned concern, furrowing my brow. "Darling, are there financial problems? Can I help somehow?"
"How could you help?" he scoffed, alcohol making him cruel. "Just do your job—look pretty, smile charmingly, and don't ask too many questions."
I bit my lip, suppressing my rage. "Sometimes I miss who I used to be."
Camden drained his glass and waved dismissively. "Me too. More than you can imagine."
I stared at Camden's swaying silhouette, with only one thought in mind:
'Soon. It will all be over soon.'
