Page 162 of Corrupting Camille

But then the screen flickers, shifting to a single message. A video.

My throat tightens in panic. My thumb moves before my mind can catch up, the video opening silently. I mute the sound. But I already know the words, I know exactly what he recorded, exactly what he’s throwing back at me now.

My face appears, flushed, eyes glazed with desperate tears, lips swollen from his ruthless kisses. My voice fills the tiny speaker, cracked, begging, pathetic and completely real:

“Because only you can make me wet,” I gasp out in the video, voice shuddering, breaking beneath the humiliation, need, and absolute truth. “Only you make me come. You…you own all my orgasms…”

I nearly choke on the sudden wave of nausea, shame and longing colliding violently within me. My pulse throbs hot and frantic beneath my skin, blood rushing to my head.

“Camille?” Preston’s voice slices through the noise, distant and confused, wrenching me sharply back to reality. “Are you alright?”

The dining room snaps into sharp focus, the gleaming crystal, the heavy silver flatware, the expensive linens, Preston’s mother watching me curiously, his father’s brow furrowed with polite concern.

“I…I’m sorry,” I whisper shakily, lowering the phone to my lap, screen pressed tightly against my thigh. “Excuse me. I just…need to use the ladies room.”

I push my chair back abruptly, ignoring the startled murmurs, ignoring the questions, barely feeling the plush carpet beneath my heels as I rush from the room. My breath comes in short, painful bursts as I stumble blindly toward the empty hallway, desperate for air, for silence, for escape.

But there is no escape.

Because I ran from him, lied to him, shoved him away with words meant to cut, and Kane is making sure I feel every single piece of damage.

My phone vibrates again, cruel and persistent. Another message. Short. Ruthless:

That video is the only honest thing you’ve ever said in your entire goddamn life. That’s your truth. And it belongs to me.

My stomach twists violently, a sickening wave crashing through me as Kane’s message burns itself into my veins, deep, ruthless, undeniable.

I stumble deeper into the empty hallway, shoulder hitting the marble wall as my legs threaten to collapse beneath me. Kane’swords echo mercilessly through my skull, stripping away every carefully constructed lie I’ve clung to:

That’s your truth. And it belongs to me.

“Camille.”

My spine snaps straight, every nerve ending flaring in sudden panic at Preston’s voice, cold, sharp, mocking. I spin around, pulse slamming against my throat.

Preston moves toward me slowly, hands casually tucked into his pockets, head tilted slightly as if studying something mildly interesting. But I see it, the tightly coiled anger lurking just beneath his polished facade.

He stops inches away, crowding me against the wall, his voice sliding out like ice. “You constantly running off for some fucking air is getting exhausting, sweetheart.” He leans closer, breath ghosting cruelly over my cheek. “Are you suffocating, or is it guilt?”

I swallow painfully, heart pounding wildly as I try to retreat, but the marble at my back traps me. He notices my panic, eyes narrowing dangerously.

His gaze snaps sharply down to my phone, still trembling in my hand. “Was it him?” Preston’s voice is low, deadly quiet. “Was it Kane?”

I freeze, words choking in my mouth. My silence is louder than any confession.

A muscle twitches in his jaw, fury sparking hot in his eyes. He lunges suddenly, snatching the phone from my fingers so roughly it leaves my palm stinging. Fear spikes, my panic instinctive, desperate.

“Give it back,” I snap, lunging forward to reclaim it. But he raises it higher, just out of reach, gaze brutal and unforgiving.

“Unlock it,” he orders coldly.

“No,” I whisper fiercely, voice shaking, dread pooling in my gut.

“I said unlock the goddamn phone, Camille.” His tone is sharp, lethal, edged with a chilling calm that makes my skin crawl.

My breath comes in shallow gasps, but I hold his gaze, defiant despite the tears prickling my eyes. Seconds pass between us like lifetimes…heavy, charged with threats. Finally, something snaps behind his carefully controlled eyes, something cold and brutal.

Without another word, he hurls the phone viciously against the marble floor. It explodes instantly, screen shattering, scattering jagged shards across the pristine tiles. The sound echoes, loud and brutal, punctuating my sudden intake of breath, a strangled sob catching painfully in my chest.