Chapter 4 - The Marriage Marco Called Normal
Camilla didn't sleep.
Neither did I.
At four in the morning I found her at the kitchen island drinking coffee she had no intention of finishing.
The envelope stayed upstairs in my study.
Locked away.
Not because I wanted control of it.
Because she asked me to put it somewhere Marco couldn't walk in and take it.
That distinction mattered.
At six twelve, headlights crossed the front windows.
Camilla looked up.
Marco's car.
I stood.
She caught my sleeve.
“Don't.”
“He's at my house.”
“I know.”
“Then why shouldn't I—”
“Because I want to see what he does.”
I stayed.
Marco entered with the key Camilla had given him years ago for emergencies.
He stepped into the kitchen.
Stopped when he saw us both awake.
“You stayed up?”
Camilla stared.
“How did you know I was still here?”
Marco put his keys down.
“You said you were staying.”
“No. How did you know I hadn't left?”
He hesitated.
I caught it.
Camilla did too.
“Marco.”
He exhaled.
“The car.”
“What about it?”
“The app.”
“I turned location sharing off.”
“You turned your phone off.”
“No.”
Her face changed.
“I turned the car sharing off too.”
Marco rubbed his jaw.
“It's a family account.”
“That doesn't answer me.”
He looked at me.
I said nothing.
Camilla asked:
“Did you turn it back on?”
“I checked the vehicle location.”
“How?”
“Camilla.”
“How?”
“I still have admin access.”
She laughed once.
It wasn't amusement.
“You've been checking?”
“I wanted to know you were safe.”
“For how long?”
He didn't answer.
I felt something inside me begin to climb.
Anger likes speed.
Elena used to tell me that.
I stayed seated.
Camilla asked again:
“For how long?”
“Since last summer.”
Her face went still.
Nine months.
Marco stepped closer.
“You disappeared after fights.”
“I went to Nina's twice.”
“You stopped answering.”
“For two hours.”
“You were upset.”
“So you tracked my car.”
“I checked where it was.”
“You tracked my car.”
He looked at me.
“You're enjoying this.”
I stood.
Camilla said:
“Dad.”
I stopped.
Marco noticed.
That bothered him.
“She doesn't need you turning this into another dominance contest.”
I looked at my daughter.
“Do you want him here?”
She thought.
“No.”
Marco's face changed.
“Camilla.”
“I want you to leave.”
“We need to talk.”
“Not now.”
“We've been married five years.”
“And we'll still have been married five years tomorrow.”
He stared.
Camilla continued.
“Go home.”
He laughed under his breath.
“Which home?”
She flinched.
He saw it.
His voice softened.
“Our home, Cam.”
“Stop.”
“I'm trying to talk to you.”
“No. You're trying to make leaving sound like cruelty.”
He looked at me.
“You hear this? This is Elena all over again.”
The room chilled.
Camilla's eyes filled.
“You never met my mother.”
“I grew up with the damage she did.”
“You grew up with your father's story about her.”
“And you grew up with his.”
He pointed at me.
That landed.
Camilla looked at me.
She did not defend me.
Good.
Marco continued:
“My mother disappeared because Elena convinced her she was trapped.”
I asked:
“Did Lydia tell you that?”
“My father did.”
“That's what I asked.”
Marco's jaw tightened.
“She came home.”
“So?”
“So she chose her family.”
Camilla whispered:
“Or she ran out of room.”
Marco stared.
I saw genuine pain in his face.
Not performance.
He believed this story.
Needed it, maybe.
He picked up his keys.
Then looked at me.
“If you're going to open that envelope, tell her everything.”
“I intend to.”
“Then tell her why Anthony knew where Harbor House was.”
“I did.”
Marco went silent.
Camilla watched him.
“He admitted it.”
Marco looked at me as if that betrayal somehow belonged to him too.
I said:
“I gave your father the address.”
Marco's expression hardened.
“Then you know.”
“I know I was wrong.”
His face shifted.
He hadn't expected that.
I continued:
“I don't know why Lydia returned.”
“My father does.”
“Anthony knows what Anthony believes.”
Marco walked toward the hallway.
At the threshold he turned.
“Ask him about the second time.”
Camilla frowned.
“What second time?”
Marco looked at me.
I didn't understand either.
He saw that.
For the first time since entering, he looked less certain.
“My mother tried to leave again when I was twelve.”
I stared.
“No.”
Marco gave a short, humorless laugh.
“You really don't know.”
Camilla looked at him.
“What happened?”
Marco's face closed.
“She got sick.”
Something in the way he said it sounded borrowed.
Then he left.
The front door closed.
Camilla stared after him.
I looked at her.
“Your mother never told me Lydia left a second time.”
Camilla whispered:
“Maybe she didn't know.”
May you like
Then she looked toward the stairs.
“Or maybe the envelope does.”
