Chapter 8 - Victoria's Confession
Camille’s voice trembled as she began. “My real name isn’t Camille Ashford. My real name is Victoria. Victoria Ashford.” A wave of murmurs rolled through the hall. Victoria went on. “Five years ago, I lived in Boston. I worked for a large financial firm. I was an assistant to the executive board. I embezzled money from the company. $2 million. When the company discovered the missing money, I blamed someone else—the chief financial officer. His name was Richard Donovan. He was a good man. He trusted me. And I fabricated evidence to frame him. I lied to the police. I gave false testimony in court. I destroyed his life. He was fired. He was branded a thief. His wife left, taking their child. He lost everything because of me. I knew he was innocent. But I didn’t stop. I was too afraid.”
The hall was silent as paper. Victoria continued: “I took the money I stole and ran to Chicago. I spent two years carefully scrubbing my tracks and building a false reputation before becoming Camille Ashford. It was all lies. I built my new life with stolen money, with someone else’s tears.”
“You told me you built your career with your own hands,” Gabriel said, his voice low and heavy. “You said you admired fairness. But you are the bully. You’re everything you said you hated.”
And at that exact moment, the grand doors of the hall flew open with a booming crash. He was a man of about 55. His hair was white, wild, and tangled. His face was gaunt, skin ashen. He wore an old worn suit, frayed at the cuffs. But the most frightening thing was his eyes—bloodshot, feral, packed with hatred and pain. The man walked into the hall. “Where is she?” the man rasped. “Where is Victoria Ashford?”
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Victoria saw the man and she screamed—a scream of pure terror. “No!” Victoria shrieked. “No, it can’t be! Not you!”
The man stopped. “Victoria Ashford, I finally found you.”
