The words remained in the air.
Someone much closer to you.
Camille stared at Cassandra.
Her mind immediately began searching through every face she knew.
Dante.
Adrian.
Chanel.
Isabelle.
Victor.
Elena.
Cassandra herself.
Impossible.
It had to be impossible.
She shook her head.
"No."
Cassandra said nothing.
Camille's voice became firmer.
"No. Everyone close to me is in this room."
"Not everyone."
The answer made her stomach tighten.
Dante stepped forward.
"Who?"
Cassandra looked at him.
"I don't know."
Dante's expression hardened.
"Then don't make accusations."
"I'm not."
She held up the photograph.
"I'm telling you what I know."
She pointed at the handwriting.
"This message was written by someone who knew your mother personally. Someone who knew about the promise."
Camille looked at the photograph.
"And you think that person is close to me?"
"I know they are."
"How?"
"Because this isn't the original photograph."
Camille frowned.
"What?"
