Chapter 9: The Last Thing Camille Said
The police came at ten.
Not to the front door — Marcus had arranged it quietly, a plain car, two officers and a financial crimes investigator, entering through the estate office where the records were already laid out and waiting.
Camille was in the east sitting room when they arrived.
Adeline knew because she heard the sound — not shouting, not crying, just the particular silence that falls when someone realizes that the thing they believed was still manageable has become something else entirely.
She heard Camille's voice once, briefly, through the closed door.
"This is a misunderstanding."
And then the investigator's voice, even and unhurried: "Ms.
Voss, I'd like you to come with us."
Dorian had already left the estate the previous evening — voluntarily, with his own solicitor, to give his formal statement.
He had not come back.
Dr.
Fenwick was arrested at his clinic at nine-fifteen.
Adeline learned this from Marcus, who delivered the information the way he delivered everything — without visible satisfaction, just the clean transfer of fact.
"The medical board has suspended his license pending investigation," Marcus added.
"That's separate from the criminal matter."
"What are the charges?" Nico asked.
"For Fenwick — unlicensed pharmaceutical dispensing, reckless endangerment, conspiracy to commit fraud.
For Camille — fraud, theft by false accounting, and conspiracy." Marcus paused.
"The police are also reviewing the crash.
The route, the vehicle, the phone records.
That investigation is separate and will take longer.
But it has been opened."
Nico nodded.
He was sitting at his desk, not in the wheelchair — he had moved to the chair behind the desk that morning, the ordinary kind, the kind that belonged to a man running an estate rather than recovering from one.
His legs were not steady yet.
But he was in it.
"And Dorian?" Adeline asked.
"Cooperating witness.
Reduced charges in exchange for full testimony." Marcus closed his briefcase.
"He'll face consequences.
Just not the same ones."
After Marcus left, the house was very quiet.
Estelle stayed.
She sat in the main sitting room with a cup of tea she didn't drink, looking out at the grounds.
Adeline found her there in the early afternoon and sat with her without being asked.
"She was clever," Estelle said, after a while.
"Yes."
"She understood exactly how much damage a person can do when they're trusted completely." She turned the teacup in her hands.
"That's the thing about people like Camille.
They don't hate the people they h*rt.
They simply don't consider them."
Adeline thought about Nico in that chair.
Eight months.
The medication adjusted in small, careful increments.
Nothing dramatic enough to notice.
Just enough to keep a strong man slightly less than himself.
"He'll need proper rehabilitation now," Adeline said.
"The right medication, the right program.
He should be walking independently within three months."
Estelle looked at her.
"And after that?" she said.
"When he doesn't need a nurse anymore?"
Adeline met her eyes.
"That," she said, "is a conversation for another day."
Estelle almost smiled.
"I like you," she said.
"I liked you from the moment I walked in and saw you standing in the middle of that corridor."
"I wasn't doing anything."
"You were standing between Camille and my grandson's door," Estelle said.
"You were doing quite a lot."
They sat together until the light shifted.
At four o'clock, Nico came to find them.
He was using a cane — the first time Adeline had seen him on his feet outside of that private moment in his room.
He moved slowly, one hand on the cane, one hand trailing the wall, but he moved.
Estelle stood up.
She didn't say anything.
She crossed the room and put her hand on his face the way grandmothers do — the way that contains everything that doesn't need to be spoken — and Nico closed his eyes for just a moment.
May you like
"There you are," she said quietly.
"Here I am," he said.
