Chapter 2: The Second Key
The object in Camille's hand wasn't a weapon.
It was another key.
Smaller than the first.
Older.
Blackened around the edges.
Darius stared at it.
“Why do you have that?””
Camille didn't answer.
Zoe backed into Darius's side.
“That's the one I saw.””
Camille's breathing became uneven.
“No.””
Zoe pointed.
“That's the key.””
Darius looked between them.
“You told me you didn't have a key.””
“I forgot.””
“You forgot?””
Camille squeezed the key so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
“This night was supposed to be perfect.””
Darius stared at her.
“My fiancée is standing in front of me holding a second key to a locked room with a child inside, and you're worried about the party?””
Camille's voice dropped.
“You don't understand.””
“Then explain it.””
“I can't.””
A guest stepped forward.
“Maybe we should call security.””
Camille spun around.
“No.””
The woman's eyebrows lifted.
“Why not?””
“Because this is private.””
Darius looked at Camille.
“Private?””
She said nothing.
The ballroom seemed smaller now.
The white flowers suddenly looked too bright. The champagne tables felt strangely distant. Every person in the room was watching Camille's face, waiting for it to reveal something.
Darius turned back toward the door.
“Who's behind it?””
“I don't know.””
“You do.””
“I don't.””
“You're shaking.””
“I'm scared.””
“Of what's behind the door?””
Camille looked at him.
“Yes.””
Darius's jaw tightened.
“Then why did you bring us here?””
Camille's lips parted.
“I didn't.””
A sudden sound came from behind the doors.
A soft scrape.
Everyone turned.
Zoe grabbed Darius's hand.
“She's moving.””
Darius stepped closer.
“Who are you?””
Silence.
He pressed his ear toward the wood.
“Hey. Can you hear me?””
A faint sniffle.
Then a little voice.
“Yes.””
Darius looked back at the guests.
The child's voice was unmistakably real.
He faced the door again.
“What's your name?””
No response.
“It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you.””
Camille whispered, “Darius, stop.””
He ignored her.
“What’s your name?””
The child finally answered.
“Amara.””
Camille stumbled backward.
Darius caught it.
He slowly turned.
“Amara?””
Camille's face had gone completely blank.
Zoe looked at her.
“You know her.””
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
Darius stepped toward Camille.
“Look at me.””
She wouldn't.
“Camille.””
Her eyes lifted.
“Do you know an Amara?””
“No.””
From behind the door came a tiny sob.
Then:
“Mommy said you would come.””
The room erupted.
Guests began talking over each other.
“Mommy?””
“Who is that?””
“Camille?””
“What's going on?””
Camille covered her mouth.
Darius stared at her.
“Mommy?””
Camille's tears were falling now.
“I never wanted this.””
Darius froze.
“Wanted what?””
She shook her head.
“Not here.””
“Then where?””
“I can't tell you.””
“You're going to tell me right now.””
Camille looked toward the doors.
Then at Zoe.
Then back at Darius.
“There are things you don't know about me.””
Darius gave a bitter laugh.
“Apparently.””
He held out his hand.
“Give me the key.””
Camille didn't move.
“Camille.””
She placed the smaller key in his palm.
Darius examined it.
Two keys.
One lock.
One child.
And a name Camille claimed not to know.
He turned toward the door.
Zoe whispered, “Ask her about the picture.””
Darius looked down.
“What picture?””
Zoe reached into the pocket of her light-blue dress.
She pulled out a folded photograph.
“I found this too.””
Camille gasped.
“Zoe, give me that.””
Zoe pulled it behind her back.
Darius took it gently.
He unfolded the photograph.
It showed a younger Camille standing beside a Black man he didn't recognize.
Between them stood a little girl.
A little girl with long curly hair.
A little girl wearing a pink dress.
Darius stared at the photograph.
Then at Zoe.
Then at the door.
The child behind it began crying.
“Dad?””
Darius's fingers tightened around the photograph.
“Camille…”
She looked at him.
He held up the picture.
“Who is this?””
Camille's face crumpled.
Before she could answer, someone at the back of the ballroom shouted.
“That's not the only photograph!””
Every head turned.
An older man stood beside the champagne table, holding a second picture.
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And on the back of it, written in black ink, were four words:
*DO NOT TRUST CAMILLE.*
