“Mary, listen, this is not the way it looks.”
She laughed softly.
“It is exactly the way it looks. That is the problem with cameras. They lack imagination.”
I wanted to disappear.
Mary’s eyes moved to me.
“Camille.”
I could not answer.
“I wish I could say I’m surprised,” she said. “But the truth is, I have been married to Mike long enough to know that a man who needs admiration the way other men need oxygen will eventually suffocate everyone around him.”
Mike found his voice.
“Mary, don’t do this publicly.”
“Publicly?” she said. “Oh, darling. You made it public before I entered the room.”
The way she said darling had no affection left in it.
Then her expression hardened.
“Your key no longer works at my house. The locks were changed this afternoon. If you need reminding what was in our prenuptial agreement, call my lawyer. Though I assume he will call you first.”
Mike’s hand tightened around the pillow.
“You can’t lock me out of my own house.”
“My house,” Mary corrected. “Read the agreement you were so proud of making me sign.”
Dave said nothing.
He did not need to.
The trap was complete.
Or so I thought.
Then I heard a door open in the room at home.
Jenny’s voice came from off-screen.
“Dad, it’s on next.”
My stomach dropped.
The laptop view turned toward the television again.
Jenny entered the frame first, stopping in front of the screen. My daughter. My beautiful, guarded, clever sixteen-year-old daughter. Her face was swollen from crying, but her eyes were sharp with hurt.
Dennis stood beside her holding the remote.
My son looked older than seventeen.
Harder.
The television switched to a news broadcast.
A serious anchor faced the camera.
“Tonight’s top political story continues to develop. In a joint statement released this evening, David Brown, husband of Member of Parliament Camille Brown, and Mary Harding, wife of Deputy Opposition Leader and Chief Whip Mike Harding, have filed for divorce on the grounds of adultery. The allegations concern an affair reportedly conducted during monthly Shadow Cabinet trips to the state capital.”
A clip appeared of our party leader standing at a podium.
“The conduct alleged is unacceptable and inconsistent with the values our party claims to uphold,” he said. “Pending internal review, both memberships will be suspended immediately.”
The broadcast returned to the anchor.
“Sources close to the matter suggest video evidence may exist, though legal representatives for Mr. Brown and Mrs. Harding declined to release details at this stage.”
Dennis clicked the television off.
The screen went black.
Then he turned toward the laptop camera.
“You wanted to be famous, Mum,” he said.
His voice did not shake.
That made it worse.
“In case you’re wondering, Dad asked us before he told the media. We told him to do whatever he needed. You deserved all of it.”
Jenny began crying harder.
Dennis put his arm around her and led her out of view.
I made a sound then.
Not a word.
Not even a sob.
Just the sound of a life collapsing.
Dave turned the laptop back toward himself and Mary.
A tear had slipped down one side of his face.
Seeing that tear hurt more than the anger.
Anger I could defend against. Anger I could call cruelty. Anger I could use to make myself the victim.
But that tear was grief.
Real grief.
The kind I had caused.
“If for no other reason than the tears in our children’s eyes,” he said, “I will never forgive you for this, Camille.”
My lips moved.
“Dave.”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
Final.
“You have no right to use my name like it still belongs in your mouth.”
I flinched.
He continued.
“I have had months to prepare. Every account, every property structure, every trust, every document, every business connection you assumed would remain available to you has been reviewed. Do not expect generosity in the divorce. Do not expect access to my protection. Do not expect me to hide your shame to preserve your future.”
Mary spoke then, still standing behind him.
“And Mike, since you enjoy threats, here is one in legal language. If you interfere with David’s business, I will release everything my investigators gathered before David ever contacted me. Dates, rooms, messages, travel records, campaign funds, staff intimidation, and the young interns you thought nobody noticed.”
Mike looked like he might be sick.
Mary smiled faintly.
“Power is only useful when people are afraid of you. Tonight, they will start laughing instead.”
Dave reached toward the laptop.
“Goodbye, Camille.”
The screen went black.
For several seconds, neither Mike nor I moved.
The silence in the hotel room was absolute.
Then the room phone rang.
I screamed.
Mike jumped up and began dressing in frantic, furious movements. His hands fumbled with buttons. He cursed under his breath, not at himself, not at what he had done, but at Dave, at Mary, at cameras, at betrayal, as if he were somehow the betrayed one.
“We need to think,” he said.
I stared at him.
Think?
Ten minutes earlier, I had thought my life was standing on pillars.
Marriage.
Children.
Parents.
Career.
Party.
Church.
Reputation.
Money.
Future.
Now I could not see a single pillar still standing.
Mike grabbed his jacket.
“I’m going to my room.”
“Are you mad?”
“I need my phone. I need to call Stuart. I need to get ahead of this.”