The Tycoon's Awakening: Losing My Wife

Camelia slid the last slice of avocado onto the toasted gluten-free bread. She reached out and twisted the stove dial, killing the blue flame. A sharp, electronic chime echoed from the entryway. The doorbell. Camelia wiped her damp hands on her apron. She walked out of the kitchen and down the wide corridor toward the front door. She grabbed the heavy brass handle and pulled the solid wood door open. Christabel Barron stood on the welcome mat. She was wearing a pristine white Chanel tweed suit. A victorious, mocking smile stretched across her pale face. Without waiting for an invitation, Christabel pushed her shoulder past Camelia and stepped into the penthouse. Christabel's eyes dragged up and down Camelia's flour-dusted apron. "Look at you," Christabel sneered. "You look exactly like a cheap nanny." Camelia kept her face completely blank. She turned her back on Christabel and started walking toward the living room. She didn't have the energy to waste breath on her. Christabel's high heels clicked sharply against the floorboards, following right behind Camelia. They reached the edge of the sunken living room. Three deep marble steps led down to the plush white rug by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Christabel stepped closer. She lowered her voice into a breathy, intimate whisper. "He was so gentle last night," Christabel murmured. "His hands were all over me in that hospital bed. He couldn't get enough." Camelia stopped dead in her tracks. She turned her head. Her eyes locked onto Christabel's. "Shut your mouth," Camelia warned, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. Down the hall, the master bedroom door clicked open. Heavy footsteps started moving toward them. Duke was coming. A flash of dark calculation sparked in Christabel's eyes. Christabel lunged forward. Her hand shot out and clamped down hard on Camelia's wrist. Her fingernails dug into Camelia's skin. Christabel opened her mouth and let out a blood-curdling scream. Before Camelia could react, Christabel threw her own body weight backward. Christabel tumbled down the three marble steps, dragging Camelia with her. The sudden, violent pull threw Camelia entirely off balance. She pitched forward into the empty air. Camelia's right knee slammed into the sharp edge of the second marble step. A sickening crunch echoed in her ears. Her right ankle twisted violently outward as she hit the bottom floor. A blinding spike of pain shot up her leg. Camelia collapsed onto the rug, gasping for air. Duke sprinted out of the hallway. His dress shirt was half-buttoned. He stopped at the top of the stairs, taking in the scene. He didn't even glance at Camelia. He leaped down the steps, bypassing her completely. Duke dropped to one knee beside Christabel. His hands hovered over her, frantic and trembling. "Christabel. Where does it hurt?" Christabel buried her face in Duke's chest. She began to sob hysterically. "She pushed me, Duke! She was so jealous, she just shoved me down the stairs!" Camelia gritted her teeth against the throbbing agony in her ankle. She pressed her palms flat against the rug, trying to push herself up. "Duke, I didn't-" Duke's head snapped toward her. His eyes were blazing with pure, unadulterated hatred. "You vicious bitch," Duke roared. The veins in his neck bulged. "She is a sick patient! How could you put your hands on her?" Duke slid his arms under Christabel's knees and back. He lifted her effortlessly against his chest. He turned and marched toward the front door. The heavy door slammed shut behind them. The sound vibrated through the floorboards. The penthouse fell into a dead, ringing silence. Camelia grabbed the edge of the marble step. She dragged her body up, putting all her weight on her left leg. She limped back to the kitchen island, dragging her swollen right foot behind her. She picked up a silver fork. She stared straight ahead at the blank wall, mechanically chewing a bite of the cold, rubbery fried egg.