Chapter 6 - CAMBRIA SAYS IT WASN’T ONE NIGHTCambria requested the meeting herself.
Not with Dorian.
With Arielle.
Message:
If you want the truth without Dorian editing it, meet me tomorrow. Public place.
Arielle almost refused.
Then accepted.
Hotel lounge.
Four o’clock.
She arrived first.
Cambria entered wearing cream instead of red.
Less dramatic.
Still immaculate.
Arielle wondered whether vulnerability was another costume.
Cambria sat.
“You look good.”
Arielle said nothing.
Cambria smiled.
“You always do.”
“Why am I here?”
“Because Dorian lies.”
“That doesn’t make you truthful.”
The smile faded.
“I have proof.”
She placed phone down.
Photographs.
Messages.
A Cartier bracelet Dorian had bought.
Arielle recognized charge from June.
He told her it was a client gift.
Another lie.
Cambria slid screenshot.
Dorian:
Last night shouldn’t have happened.
Cambria:
But it did.
Another.
Dorian:
I think about you more than I should.
Another.
Give me time.
Arielle stopped.
“When did he send that?”
July 8.
Before hospital dinner.
“Context?”
Cambria laughed.
“You sound like his lawyer.”
“Context?”
Cambria played voice message.
Dorian’s voice:
“I can’t do this while I’m still married to Arielle. Give me time. I need to handle things.”
Arielle’s chest tightened.
Cambria watched.
There.
The reaction she wanted.
Arielle refused to give more.
“Is that full recording?”
“Yes.”
Lie.
Arielle did not know yet.
But Cambria looked away before answering.
Arielle stored it.
Cambria continued.
“He wasn’t confused.”
“He pursued me.”
“Sometimes.”
“He called.”
“He sent gifts.”
“He complained about you.”
“He said your marriage was empty.”
Arielle said:
“He told me he exaggerated.”
“Of course.”
“You believe him?”
“No.”
Cambria blinked.
That answer disappointed her.
Arielle continued:
“I don’t need Dorian innocent for you to be dishonest.”
Cambria’s expression hardened.
“You think I staged the fall.”
“I know I didn’t touch you.”
“That doesn’t mean I staged anything.”
“You looked at Dorian before you fell.”
Cambria laughed.
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
Arielle stared.
Cambria’s face was convincing.
Very.
That was her gift.
She could manufacture emotion without losing polish.
Then Cambria leaned closer.
“You want to know what Dorian told me after New York?”
“What?”
“That he had never felt wanted by you.”
Arielle’s eyes hardened.
“He said you loved him like a business partner.”
“That you admired him but didn’t need him.”
“That with me he felt…”
She smiled.
“Chosen.”
Arielle’s stomach turned.
Not because Cambria had won.
Because Dorian had been cruel enough to turn intimacy into gossip.
“You enjoyed telling me that.”
“Yes.”
At least Cambria admitted.
“Why?”
Cambria’s eyes changed.
“Because women like you think you’re untouchable.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“This was always about me too.”
Cambria leaned back.
“You have everything.”
“No.”
“You have Dorian.”
“Not anymore.”
Cambria’s smile faltered.
Arielle continued.
“You thought sleeping with him would make you me.”
Silence.
“You wanted the marriage.”
“The invitations.”
“The house.”
“The name.”
“The photographs.”
“You didn’t just want a man.”
“You wanted proof that you could take something from someone you envied.”
Cambria’s face chilled.
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
“No.”
Arielle stood.
“I’m very sure of you.”
Cambria grabbed her wrist lightly.
Arielle looked down.
Cambria released.
Then said:
“He was with me more than twice.”
Arielle stopped.
“How many?”
“Five nights.”
That contradicted Dorian.
“Dates.”
Cambria smiled.
“Ask your husband.”
Arielle sat again.
“No.”
“Tell me.”
Cambria listed:
June 17.
July 29.
August 12.
August 27.
September 3.
Dorian claimed no physical meetings after July.
Three extra dates.
Arielle wrote them down.
Cambria looked pleased.
“You really are taking notes.”
“Yes.”
“Does it make betrayal feel cleaner?”
“No.”
“It makes lying harder.”
Cambria’s smile faded.
Arielle asked:
“Where August 12?”
“Savannah.”
“Where?”
“Bellweather Hotel.”
“August 27?”
“His office.”
“September 3?”
“My apartment.”
Arielle nodded.
“Proof?”
Cambria showed photographs.
August 12:
Dorian in hotel lobby.
Could be anything.
August 27:
His car outside office late.
Again.
September 3:
A photograph of Dorian entering Cambria’s apartment building.
That one mattered.
Arielle’s pulse changed.
“Time?”
10:14 p.m.
She remembered Dorian said he was meeting an investor.
Maybe he had.
Then stopped afterward.
Cambria smiled.
“Still think it ended in July?”
Arielle stood.
“You made one mistake.”
“What?”
“You gave me dates.”
Cambria frowned.
Arielle took phone.
“Dates are verifiable.”
She walked away.
Cambria called after:
“He’ll lie again!”
Arielle turned.
“Then I’ll know.”
Back in car, Arielle sent dates to a private investigator she had hired that morning.
Her name was Marisol Kane.
Former litigation researcher.
Discrete.
Expensive.
Arielle wrote:
I need locations, hotel records where legally obtainable, event schedules, travel, witnesses. No illegal access.
Marisol replied:
Understood.
Arielle did not want a revenge story.
She wanted evidence.
By midnight, first result arrived.
August 12.
Dorian was indeed at Bellweather Hotel.
But not alone with Cambria.
Security conference photos showed him speaking onstage from 7 to 10 p.m.
Public event.
Could he have met Cambria afterward?
Yes.
August 27.
He was at office.
September 3.
He entered Cambria’s building.
That was strongest.
Then Dorian called.
Arielle answered.
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“She gave you dates.”
“Yes.”
“She’s lying.”
“About all?”
“Three.”
“What happened September 3?”
Dorian took a breath.
“I went to her apartment.”
Arielle closed her eyes.
There.
Another omission.
“Why?”
“She had something of mine.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
“What letter?”
“One I wrote and never sent.”
Arielle’s voice became very quiet.
“Dorian.”
“What was in the letter?”
He did not answer.
May you like
And Arielle knew immediately:
Whatever it said was worse than he wanted her to hear from Cambria.
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