Chapter 4

I didn't release the footage right away.

That was exactly what Camille wanted.

She needed me angry.

Anger could be cut, muted, and repackaged as cruelty.

So I kept rehearsing.

Every morning, I stretched until my muscles shook.

Every afternoon, I taught the younger dancers the choreography my mother had finished before she died, one step at a time.

Every night, I watched the rooftop footage once, then closed the file.

On the screen, Camille entered the glass conservatory alone.

She tested the door twice.

It wasn't locked.

Then she called Adrian and cried that she was trapped.

When Adrian…