The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

The limousine was dead. The transmission was shot from the abuse Camille had put it through.

Victoria had called a private car service immediately. When the black Mercedes arrived, she and Mia climbed in.

"There isn't room for you," Victoria said, rolling up the window before Camille could even step forward.

They left her on the side of the road with the tow truck driver.

Camille didn't care. She hitched a ride with the tow truck into the city. She needed to think. She needed clothes that didn't smell like prison.

She walked into Bergdorf Goodman.

The air inside was cool and smelled of expensive perfume. It was a scent she used to know well. Now, it felt alien.

A sales associate looked at her frayed trench coat and combat boots. She wrinkled her nose and turned her back, pretending to organize a rack of scarves.

Camille ignored her. She walked toward the men's section. She wanted a suit. Something structured. Armor.

"Camille?"

The voice stopped her. It was a voice that had haunted her nightmares for five years.

She turned slowly.

Gavin Lloyd stood there. He looked exactly the same. Handsome in a polished, superficial way. He was wearing a bespoke suit that probably cost more than the average person made in a year.

He wasn't with Mia.

"It is you," Gavin said, a smirk spreading across his face. He stepped closer, invading her personal space. "I heard they let you out. I didn't think you'd have the nerve to show your face in public."

"Move," Camille said.

"Still feisty," Gavin laughed. He reached out and grabbed her upper arm. His fingers dug into her bicep. "Listen to me, Camille. You're a convict now. You're garbage. Stay away from Mia. Stay away from the family. If you cause trouble, I'll make sure you go back inside for the rest of your life."

Camille looked at his hand on her arm.

"Let go," she said. "I'm counting to three."

"Or what?" Gavin sneered. "One. Two..."

Camille didn't wait for three.

Her right hand shot up, clamping over Gavin's wrist. Her thumb dug into the pressure point between his tendons.

Gavin gasped, his grip loosening.

Camille stepped in, her left leg hooking behind his right ankle. She twisted his arm behind his back, using his own momentum against him.

She pivoted her hips.

Gavin went airborne.

He slammed onto the marble floor with a sickening thud. The air left his lungs in a wheeze.

Shoppers screamed. Security guards started running from the entrance.

Camille dropped her knee onto Gavin's chest. She leaned down, her hand closing around his throat. Not enough to kill, just enough to terrify.

"That was a warning," she whispered. Her eyes were dark voids. "Next time, I break the bone."

Gavin stared up at her, his face pale, eyes bulging. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe.

"Hey! Get off him!" a guard yelled, reaching for his taser.

From the mezzanine level, Horatio Melton watched. He was holding a cup of espresso, his elbows resting on the railing.

He saw the technique. Krav Maga. Efficient. Brutal.

"Stop," Horatio said to the store manager standing beside him.

The manager blinked. "Sir? That woman is assaulting a customer."

"That woman is defending herself," Horatio said calmly. "Tell your guards to stand down. And tell Mr. Lloyd to leave."

The manager swallowed hard. You didn't argue with Horatio Melton. He grabbed his radio. "Stand down. Let her go. Escort the man out."

Down on the floor, Camille released Gavin. She stood up and brushed invisible dust off her coat. She paid for a stark white suit and a structured leather briefcase to hold the only things she had left from her old life. She didn't buy a purse.

The guards stopped a few feet away, looking confused.

"Ma'am, you're free to go," the head guard said. He looked at Gavin, who was groaning on the floor. "Sir, you need to leave the premises."

"She attacked me!" Gavin wheezed, clutching his back.

"We saw the footage, sir. You grabbed her first," the guard lied smoothly.

Camille frowned. She looked up.

On the balcony, a man in a charcoal suit was watching her. He didn't smile. He didn't wave. He just nodded, once, and turned away.

Camille narrowed her eyes. She didn't know who he was, but she knew one thing.

She didn't like owing anyone favors.