itself remained with the lawyers until the investigations were complete.
When it was finally returned, she did not display it as a trophy.
She stored it in a locked cabinet beside her first consulting contract and a photograph from her wedding.
In the photograph, she and David were standing beneath white roses, laughing at something outside the frame.
No one looking at it would know that her career had been attacked less than an hour earlier.
That was why Camille loved the picture.
Lucas had wanted his message to become the defining moment of her wedding day.
He had timed it for maximum cruelty, certain that humiliation would follow her down the aisle.
Instead, the message became evidence.
The firing became leverage.
And the day he tried to take everything from her became the day Camille understood that a title could be revoked, an office could be emptied, and a company could turn against her—but the judgment, relationships, and courage she had built were hers alone.
Those were the things Lucas had never possessed.
That was why he had mistaken power for something he could send in a text.
