“I’m so glad you’re here.” Kelly sighed quietly.
Camille returned the embrace with a tired smile.
“I’m sorry I made you worry.”
“You definitely did.” Kelly pulled back just enough to look her over.
“I was two seconds away from filing a missing person’s report.”
Despite everything, Camille managed a small laugh.
A police officer approached them carrying a clipboard.
“Miss Kelly Reyes?”
Kelly turned immediately.
“That’s me.”
“The detective has finished reviewing your statement.
You’re free to leave.”
Kelly released a dramatic sigh.
“Finally.”
“Thank you for your cooperation tonight,” the officer said, with a polite nod.
“Trust me,” Kelly muttered, rubbing the back of her neck, “I’d rather never cooperate with the police again.”
The officer chuckled and walked away.
Kelly watched him go before turning back to Camille.
“Come on.”
The two women made their way slowly toward the station exit.
Around them, the precinct remained busy despite the late hour — officers hurrying between desks with files in hand, phones ringing almost constantly, several guests from La Cuisine Bar still scattered through the waiting area, quietly answering questions from detectives while others sat with weary, half-finished expressions, eager for the night to end.
The moment the cool night air greeted them outside, Kelly stretched both arms above her head.
“I never want to attend another rich-people party again.”
Camille couldn’t help smiling.
“I thought you said this was exactly what you needed.”
“It was.” Kelly groaned dramatically.
“Until armed men decided to ruin it.”
They walked toward the BMW parked beneath a streetlight.
Kelly shook her head.
“It happened so fast.”
“What exactly happened after I left?” Camille asked.
Kelly frowned, the memories rushing back all at once.
“I honestly don’t even know where to start.” She waited while Camille unlocked the car remotely, then continued as they climbed in.
“Not long after you disappeared, people near the entrance started screaming.
When I looked over, there were several men dressed completely in black forcing their way toward the entrance.
Huge, Cam.
Tall.
Broad.
The kind of men you instinctively avoid looking at.”
Camille listened quietly, easing the driver’s door shut.
“Security tried stopping them, but the whole place erupted before anyone even understood what was happening.
Some guests ran for the emergency exits, others hid in the VIP lounges.
I don’t even remember who called the police — one minute everyone was panicking, the next there were sirens everywhere.” Kelly leaned her head back against the seat as Camille started the engine.
“The officers secured the building and took statements from everyone still inside.
I kept telling them my best friend had disappeared.” Her voice softened.
“I was terrified.”
Camille glanced at her briefly.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.
You came back.” Only then did Kelly properly take in what Camille was wearing.
She blinked, eyes narrowing.
“…Hold on, Cam.
Why are you wearing hospital scrubs?”
Silence.
Kelly looked down at the oversized uniform again, then back to her friend’s face.
“That’s definitely not what you wore to the party.”
Camille let out a quiet breath, pulling the BMW away from the curb.
“It’s…
a long story.”
Kelly folded her arms, twisting in her seat to face her fully.
“Oh, you’re absolutely telling me everything on the way home.”
Camille managed a faint smile as she eased onto the road, city lights shimmering faintly across the windshield while silence settled between them for a few moments.
“I left because I couldn’t stay there anymore,” she admitted quietly.
“What Brielle said — it got to me.”
Kelly’s expression hardened instantly.
“I swear, if I ever see that woman again—”
“Kelly.”
“No.” She shook her head.
“She had no right bringing up your mom.
That was cruel, even for her.”
Camille kept her eyes fixed on the road.
“I know.” Another brief silence passed between them.
“So what happened after you left?” Kelly asked.
Camille’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“I wasn’t paying attention while I was driving.
My head was a mess.” A swallow.
“Then someone ran into the road.”
Kelly’s eyes widened.
“You hit someone?”
“I thought I did.”
Kelly sat upright.
“What do you mean, you thought you did?”
“When I got out of the car, I realized he’d already been shot.”
“What?”
“There was blood everywhere.
He was badly hurt.”
Kelly stared at her in disbelief.
“Camille — are you serious?”
“I wanted to call the police. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
He stopped me.
Grabbed my wrist, asked me not to.”
Kelly frowned.
“That’s…
suspicious.”
“I thought so too.” Camille hesitated, her hands tightening slightly on the wheel.
“There’s more.
I recognized him, Kelly.”
“You recognized him?” Kelly’s frown deepened.
“From where?”
“Dad’s anniversary party.
Weeks ago.” Camille kept her eyes fixed on the road, unable to look at her while she said it.
“It was him.
Liam Macford.”
For a moment, Kelly said nothing at all, the words visibly working their way through her.
Then her eyes went wide, the last piece of the bartender’s story from earlier that same night slotting into place with almost audible force.
“The same Liam Macford the bartender was talking about two hours ago?
The one who—” She stopped herself, glancing instinctively toward the back seat as though the words themselves might attract attention.
“Cam.
That man runs one of the most feared syndicates in this entire city.
You had him bleeding out in your passenger seat.”
“I know.”
“You know, and you still drove him to a hospital yourself?”
“I couldn’t just leave him there, Kelly.
Shot or not, feared or not — he would have died on that road.” Camille’s voice wavered slightly.
“I didn’t exactly have time to weigh the depth of the situation while he was bleeding through his shirt.”
Kelly stared at her, some mixture of horror and reluctant awe passing across her face.
“So what did you do?”
“He asked me to take him to St.
Andrew Medical Center.”
“And you actually drove him there?
Knowing what we’d just heard about him an hour before?”
Camille nodded.
“I couldn’t just leave him there to die.
I didn’t let myself think too hard about who he was until after.”
Kelly slowly leaned back against her seat, trying to process everything she’d just heard.
“So that’s why you’re wearing hospital clothes.”
“They cleaned the blood off my dress, but it was still damp, so they had me change into these for the ride home.”
Kelly looked at her friend for a long moment, shaking her head.
“Camille.”
“What?”
“You really have the strangest luck.” A small laugh escaped Camille despite everything.
“I’ve been told.”
“Does he know you recognized him?”
Camille shook her head slowly.
“I didn’t say anything.
Neither did he, really — he was in too much pain to even recall my face.
I don’t think he realized who I was.” She swallowed.
“And I didn’t tell the police either.
About any of it, and not what he said about someone coming after him.”
Kelly’s eyes narrowed slightly, something sharp and careful settling behind them.
“Why not?”
“Because he asked me not to call anyone.
Because of everything we just heard about him tonight.” Camille’s voice dropped lower.
“I don’t know why, but it felt like the wrong thing to hand over.
Like it wasn’t mine to give away.”
Kelly studied her for a long moment, clearly turning that over, before finally letting it go with a slow exhale.
“Well.
If half of what that bartender said is true, I sincerely hope you never cross paths with that man again.”
Camille didn’t answer that.
She kept her eyes on the road, replaying the stranger’s final words over and over in her mind.
They’re coming.
Take me to St.
Andrew Medical Center.
Almost thirty minutes later, the familiar iron gates of the Wilson estate came into view.
The security guards recognized Kelly’s BMW immediately and opened the gates without question, the car rolling up the long driveway before stopping beneath the grand entrance.
Kelly unfastened her seatbelt with a tired groan.
“I never thought I’d be so happy to see this house.”
Camille switched off the engine.
“So much happened tonight.
Feels like three different days packed into one.” They stepped out of the car, and as Camille locked it, she held out Kelly’s key fob.
“Your baby.”
Kelly accepted it with a grin.
“My father would’ve disowned me if anything happened to this car.”
“I was beginning to think the same thing.”
Kelly laughed softly, slipping the keys into her handbag.
“Come on.” Together they climbed the marble staircase toward the front entrance.
The mansion was unusually quiet.
The moment they stepped inside, both girls slowed.
Mr.
Wilson sat calmly on one of the cream-colored sofas with a folded newspaper resting on his lap, Mrs.
Helen Wilson elegantly dressed beside him despite the late hour, a porcelain teacup balanced between her fingers.
Standing quietly behind them, Auntie Ane waited with her hands folded before her apron.
It was obvious.
They’d been waiting.
Mr.
Wilson looked up first.
Before either girl could answer, Helen’s eyes swept slowly over Camille.
The expensive black dress she’d left the house wearing was gone, replaced by an oversized hospital uniform, her hair slightly disheveled, exhaustion written across every inch of her face.
Helen arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“…Interesting.” A slow, mocking smile spread across her lips, gaze lingering deliberately on the hospital clothes.
“You leave this house dressed like a respectable young lady, and return looking like you’ve escaped from a psychiatric ward.”
The room fell silent.
Kelly rolled her eyes.
Camille simply lowered hers.
Helen gave a soft, humorless laugh.
“I suppose this is the latest fashion trend now?”
Auntie Ane’s fingers tightened around the edge of her apron, but she wisely stayed silent.
Mr.
Wilson ignored his wife’s remark entirely, his attention fixed on his daughter.
“What happened?”
Before Camille could speak, Kelly stepped in.
“There was a bit of trouble at the party.”
Mr.
Wilson’s brow furrowed slightly.
“The police had to get involved, but everything’s already been sorted.”
Helen folded her arms.
“So that explains the late arrival.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kelly said.
Mr.
Wilson’s expression softened.
“I’m just glad the two of you are safe.”
“We’re fine,” Camille said gently.
Auntie Ane finally allowed herself a small smile of relief.
“I’ll prepare something warm for both of you.”
Helen rose gracefully.
“Do whatever you like.” Without another glance at either of them, she turned and disappeared upstairs, and the atmosphere in the room noticeably lightened the moment she’d gone.
Mr.
Wilson rose to his feet as well.
“It’s late.
We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” He looked between the two of them.
“You should both get some rest.”
“Goodnight, sir,” Kelly said politely.
He smiled before heading upstairs himself, leaving only Auntie Ane, who stepped closer to Camille, voice barely above a whisper.
“You both look so exhausted, my dear.”
Camille smiled weakly.
“We really are.”
“I’ll bring your food upstairs.”
“Thank you, Auntie.”
Kelly pulled out her phone.
“Oh — I should call my mom.” She dialed, and the call connected after a few rings.
“Hi, Mom.” A pause.
“…Yeah, everything’s okay.
There was just some confusion at the party.” She glanced toward Camille.
“I’ll be staying over at Cam’s place tonight.” Another pause, and a smile.
“Yes, she’s right here.” She held the phone out.
“My mom wants to make sure I’m actually staying with you.”
Camille laughed, accepting the phone.
“Good evening, Mrs.
Reyes.”
A warm voice greeted her from the other end.
“Camille, dear.
Kelly has me worried sick.”
“I’m so sorry for worrying you, ma’am.
We’re both fine now.”
“Good.
Please take care of each other.”
“I will.” After a few more polite exchanges, Camille handed the phone back, and Kelly ended the call before stretching dramatically.
“I’m officially done with today.”
The two friends climbed the staircase together and disappeared into Camille’s bedroom.
The moment Kelly stepped inside, she kicked off her heels and collapsed face-first onto the mattress.
“I’m not moving from this bed.
I’m serious.” A muffled pause.
“If this house catches fire, leave me.”
Camille laughed.
“I’ll definitely consider that.”
“I’m already asleep.”
Within moments, Kelly’s breathing settled into something slow and even.
Camille smiled to herself and slipped into the bathroom, warm water pouring over her shoulders as she stood beneath the shower.
For the first time all night, everything went quiet — and in that quiet, Brielle’s cruel words came rushing back.
Then the screech of tires.
The blood.
The stranger’s bruised face — a face she’d already known, standing across a ballroom from her three weeks earlier.
His piercing eyes.
The firm grip of his hand around her wrist.
His words, No police.
Take me to St.
Andrew Medical Center.
Why did she keep recalling it?
She closed her eyes beneath the falling water.
“I hope you make it,” she whispered softly.
A few minutes later, changed into fresh pajamas, she returned to the bedroom to find Kelly already fast asleep, hugging one of the pillows.
Smiling faintly, Camille switched off the bedside lamp and slipped beneath her own blanket, the room falling into darkness around her.
Outside, the city carried on glittering beneath the midnight sky, entirely unaware of how much had just changed.