Ellen’s POV

Staring at Kamille left my mind a whirlwind of disbelief and shock. My hands gripped at my phone and purse tightly, leaving my knuckles white from the pressure.

I needed to be really sure it was Kamille and not me running mad from imagination. I dropped my purse and took a few photographs of Kamille and Belle together on her front porch.

“Let's go,” I instructed the driver.

“I have thought you would never request that,” He replied and we drove off.

The image of Kamille, standing there on her front porch, played over and over in my mind like a relentless, surreal loop. How could she be...