The hallway felt colder than before.
Camille walked slowly, her thoughts spinning so fast she barely registered the distance back to her room. Dante's words echoed inside her head, replaying on a loop she couldn't silence.
You weren't wrong to listen.
You're not a burden.
I don't fail at things I care about.
She shut her bedroom door gently behind her.
For a moment, she stood there in silence, trying to steady the tremble in her hands. She wasn't sure if it was the aftermath of fear… or the weight of something else. Something she didn't want to name yet.
She moved toward her bed.
Then her phone buzzed.
Once.
Then again.
A third time.
Camille froze.
Her phone lay on the bedside table, screen glowing in the darkness. She reached for it, slow and hesitant. Her chest tightened when she saw the name on the notifications.
Unknown Number
Three messages.
All within the last minute.
Her pulse thudded as she unlocked the screen.
The first message opened instantly.
Unknown: You think marrying him will erase what you did?
Camille's breath hitched.
The second message buzzed in before she could process the first.
Unknown: Victor told us everything. You're not innocent. You never were.
Her stomach dropped.
Victor. He was behind this? Feeding lies? Feeding someone ammunition?
Her hands began to shake.
Then the third message came in.
It wasn't words.
It was a picture.
Camille's fingers tightened painfully around her phone as the image loaded. Grainy. Dark. Obviously edited but damaging all the same.
A doctored screenshot of her crying the night Victor left her. Except in this version, she wasn't crying alone.
They'd added another man's silhouette beside her hand on her waist fabricated entirely.
A complete lie.
Her chest constricted painfully as she stared at it.
Her breathing stuttered.
Who would do this? Why? Why now?
Before she could react, her phone buzzed again.
A fourth message.
Unknown: More coming. Unless you leave him now.
Camille felt the blood drain from her face.
A threat.
Blackmail.
And Victor's name tangled in it like poison.
She stumbled backward a step, her heart pounding so violently she could barely hear the room around her.
Fear. Shame. Anger. All crashing together so forcefully she couldn't separate them.
This was planned.
Targeted.
Cruel.
And she knew exactly what the sender wanted
To break her.
To tear her apart.
To make Dante doubt her.
To ruin everything before it even began.
A sudden knock on her door made her gasp.
Not loud.
Not urgent.
But firm.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe.
"Camille," Dante's voice said through the door. "Open up."
Her grip tightened around her phone.
This was the last thing she wanted him to see.
The last thing she wanted him to know.
But Dante already sounded… tense.
Alert.
Concern sharpening his tone like a blade.
"Open the door," he said again, more quietly this time. "Please."
Please.
He rarely said that word.
Camille's chest tightened. She walked toward the door slowly, every step heavier than the last, and opened it.
Dante stood there no jacket now, sleeves rolled up, expression carved from granite. But when he looked at her face, something in his eyes softened instantly.
"Camille?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
She didn't realize she was trembling until he noticed.
"What happened?" he asked, stepping closer, not touching her but radiating a protective intensity that made her breath catch.
Her voice came out small.
Broken around the edges.
"I got a message."
Dante's body went still.
"From who?"
She held up the phone, unable to speak.
He took it gently carefully, like one wrong move would shatter something fragile and looked at the screen.
His entire expression changed.
Calm first.
Then cold.
Then wildfire.
A slow, controlled fury spread across his features.
"Who sent this?" he asked, voice dangerously quiet.
"I don't know," Camille whispered. "But they mentioned Victor."
Dante inhaled sharply through his nose, the sound sharp and lethal.
"I knew he was involved," he muttered. "I knew it."
He turned the phone over in his hand, inspecting the image with a precision that made her shiver. His eyes traced every pixel, every shadow, every edit.
Then he lifted his gaze to hers.
"Listen to me," he said slowly. "This image is fake. The messages are fake. And whoever sent them is desperate."
Camille swallowed. Hard. "But desperate to do what?"
Dante took a breath, steadying himself.
"To split us apart. To control you. To humiliate you. To"
He stopped.
Because her eyes were filling with tears she refused to let fall.
Dante's voice softened instantly.
"They want to break you, Camille. But they won't."
He stepped closer, closer still.
Close enough that she could feel the intensity radiating off him like heat.
"I won't let them."
Her throat tightened painfully. "Why me? Why now?"
His answer was soft.
But steady.
Unshakeable.
"Because you're not alone anymore. And that terrifies people who only feel powerful when they're hurting you."
A tear finally escaped.
She brushed it away quickly.
Dante watched her really watched her the way a man reads a map before a war.
And then, with a restraint that trembled on the edge of breaking, he said:
"Camille… whoever is doing this made a mistake."
Her breath trembled. "What mistake?"
His voice dropped to a quiet promise.
"They targeted someone I refuse to lose."
The words hit her like a shockwave.
Because he meant them.
Every syllable.
Dante handed her phone back gently and straightened.
"I'm going to find out who sent this," he said. "Tonight. Now."
"Wait Dante"
He turned back toward her, jaw clenched, eyes burning with purpose.
"You're safe here. Don't open the door for anyone but me. And Camille…"
She looked up, breath unsteady.
Dante held her gaze with a fierce intensity she had never seen from him before.
"You don't have to be afraid of your past anymore," he said quietly. "I'm not letting it touch you ever again."
Then he left the room, steps sharp, decisive, already hunting the truth.
Camille watched him disappear into the hallway, heart pounding with fear, confusion… and something far deeper.
Because tonight, she wasn't broken.
She was being defended.
And that changed everything.