Chapter 3
PART 3
"But I'm hungry..."
"I already answered you," Camille said sharply. "There's nothing here for you."
Adrien stopped dead in the hallway.
The little girl's voice came again, smaller this time.
"But Mommy said there was still one applesauce cup..."
Camille stepped in front of the refrigerator, blocking the door with her body.
"I said no."
Inès stared at the refrigerator for a second before quietly lowering her hand.
"My tummy hurts..."
"Then tell your mother to stop acting like a victim," Camille snapped. "This house isn't a soup kitchen."
Adrien felt every muscle in his body go rigid.
For a brief moment...
He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Then Inès reached toward the refrigerator again, almost timidly.
Camille brushed her hand away with a quick shove.
The little girl stumbled backward, bumping into the marble island before catching herself.
She didn't cry.
She simply lowered her head.
"Camille."
Adrien's voice crashed through the kitchen like a slammed door.
Camille spun around.
For one split second...
Her face revealed neither guilt nor fear.
Only calculation.
Then she smiled.
"Adrien..."
"What a surprise. You're home early."
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked straight past her and knelt in front of Inès.
"Hey there, sweetheart."
His voice softened immediately.
"Are you okay?"
The little girl hesitated.
She looked at Camille.
Then back at Adrien.
Finally, almost in a whisper...
"I'm hungry."
Those two words hit him harder than any accusation ever could.
Adrien slowly stood.
His eyes never left Camille.
"Where's Clara?"
"In the laundry room, I think." Camille shrugged dismissively. "Honestly, this child exaggerates everything. You know how kids are."
"No."
Camille blinked.
"...Excuse me?"
"I don't know how kids are."
His voice remained calm.
Almost too calm.
"I only know what I just heard."
Camille folded her arms.
"Oh, come on. You're seriously going to believe a three-year-old over me?"
"I'm not planning to believe anyone."
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
"I'm going to look."
A flicker of panic crossed Camille's face.
"What are you talking about?"
"The security cameras."
Her smile disappeared.
"Adrien... don't be ridiculous."
"I want the kitchen footage."
Silence.
"The last thirty days."
Camille let out a nervous laugh.
"You're going to spy on your own fiancée because your housekeeper made up a story?"
Without taking his eyes off her, Adrien gently lifted Inès into his arms.
The little girl rested her head against his shoulder as if she were too exhausted to hold it up herself.
"I'm not spying on anyone," he said quietly.
"I'm verifying the truth."
"You can't seriously think—"
"I don't think."
His voice cut through hers.
"I check."
For the first time since he had entered the kitchen...
Camille looked genuinely afraid.
That evening, Adrien locked himself inside his home office.
Outside the door...
Clara sat silently in the hallway, clutching the sleeping Inès against her chest.
Her heart pounded.
She wasn't worried about Camille.
She was worried about herself.
About losing her job.
About Camille twisting the story.
About being accused of causing trouble.
She knew how the world worked.
Poor people always had to prove they weren't lying.
Inside the office...
Adrien opened the security system.
He selected one location.
Kitchen.
Then he chose one date range.
Last 30 Days.
May you like
He pressed Play.
And the truth began unfolding—one silent recording at a time.
