Page 70 of Corrupting Camille
Stripped bare.
Gutted.
“It’s fine,” I say, but my voice sounds foreign. Harsh and tight, on the verge of something too sharp to hold back. “I’ll fix this.”
But her face tells me she knows that’s a lie. You don’t fix a coup. You survive it.
She nods once, understanding enough to step away. “Let me know if…if you need anything.”
She leaves, the soft click of the door behind her sounding more like the slide of a lock being turned. Trapping me.
I stand frozen in the middle of the boardroom, alone in the silence, staring down at his name etched in digital ink beneath mine. It mocks me, bold and unapologetic.
Rivera Holdings.
Kane Rivera.
He didn’t just insert himself into my foundation. He stole my authority. He reached inside the heart of everything I built and ripped out its pulse.
He tookcontrol.
It’s not just an intrusion, it’s possession. He’s dug his claws into every layer of my world, every transaction now routed through his hands. Every decision I make will have his fingerprints all over it, his eyes always watching from somewhere I can’t see.
He’s going to make me beg.
I close my eyes, nausea churning deep. Not from what he’s done, but because part of me already knows what comes next.
Confrontation.
I can’t let this stand. I can’t let him own me like this. But walking into his territory again, facing him, feels like walking willingly into the lion’s den, blood already dripping from open wounds.
But what choice do I have?
Either I surrender quietly, or I confront the wolf now occupying my world.
And I know, that’s exactly what he wants.
He wants me angry.
Wants me desperate.
Wants me broken and bleeding at his feet.
Fuck him.
I will not give him what he wants.
Instead, I avoid him for six days, thirteen hours, and, if we’re being exact, twenty-two minutes.
But I feel him. In the air. In the building. In the silence between emails. His presence hangs like static, always there, always charged, always one wrong breath away from striking. So, I bury myself in work.
I stop going out. Stop answering Preston’s texts unless I absolutely have to. I cancel every non-essential meeting and lock myself in my office long after everyone else has gone home.
And I work.
I pour every ounce of rage, shame, and humiliation into rebuilding my Foundation proposal, drafting a counter-strategy that undercuts Kane’s heartless, corporate “restructure” line by line. I cite retention rates, partner testimonials, community case studies. I even call directors on the ground for updated numbers and quotes, just to remind myself what the hell I’m fighting for.
I’m not a doll.
