Regrets - Chapter Thirty Eight
Cam and Alexis formally meet in "Mirrors Don't Flinch" and the final decision is made in "The Thing She Didn't Need".
Friday - Week 3
(part 1 of 2)
Mirrors Don’t Flinch – Cam
Nicole had just left. Cam could still smell her scent, the subtle vanilla and tea tree, the faint trace of her shampoo hanging in the air like a goodbye that hadn’t cleared. The click of the door still echoed in her chest.
Cam stood in the middle of the suite, shoulders tight. The place was curated, white orchids by the sink, silk robe folded at the bed’s edge. The kind of room Nicole earned by fighting battles no one else could see. And today? She’d be fighting again. The board. Her family. The whole damn future of the company.
And instead of running that meticulous loop Cam knew from memory that she would normally be doing, she’d left this space to this. Which meant one thing: she wanted the discussion to happen here and now. No buffer. No script. Just Cam and Alexis.
Three soft, intentional knocks.
Cam pulled the door open.
Alexis Blackwell stepped in. Composed. Balanced. Not cold, just calibrated. She didn’t ask permission. Nicole had already given it.
Cam moved aside, taking her in. The symmetry hit hard. They were about the same height, same build, even the same burn in the eyes. But where Cam carried scars under sleeves and old grit in her posture, Alexis gleamed. Tailored coat. Slim heels. Jewelry like punctuation marks. Cam wore edges. Alexis wore polish.
And still, Cam recognized something familiar in her. The same thing Nicole must have recognized, too.
“You’ve been here a while,” Alexis said.
“Seven minutes,” Cam answered. Voice low, steady. “She didn’t say much.”
“She didn’t need to.”
Cam nodded. That tracked. Nicole had always spoken clearest in what she left unsaid.
Silence hung. Heavy, but not hostile.
“She told me you’ve been helping,” Alexis said finally. “The recovery…coordination. The cleanup.” Cam’s throat tightened. She shrugged. “She needed someone she didn’t have to explain things to.”
“And you just said yes?”
Cam nodded once. “Without hesitation.”
Alexis studied her long enough that Cam felt the weight of it, like being measured against a line she hadn’t drawn.
“She’s not sleeping well,” Alexis murmured.
Cam looked at her fully now. Not adversary. Not ally. Just real. “She’s carrying too much. She always has. But it sounds different this time. She’s steering, not surviving.”
Alexis blinked, the words landing. Not fear. Recognition.
“She’s building something here,” Cam said. “Not just a board win. A life. Something she doesn’t have to crawl through. Something that’s hers.”
“And I’m part of that?”
Cam didn’t hesitate. “You are.”
Alexis’s face shifted, the polish cracked just enough to show the woman underneath.
“She chose you,” Cam added. “You’re in the room. In the bed. That means something.”
Alexis steadied her breath. “I don’t need her past. I just want her future to be hers.”
Cam’s shoulders softened. “She’s not running from you. That’s new for her.”
A flicker of a smile crossed Alexis mouth, almost reluctant. “She’s also not telling me everything.”
Cam shook her head. “No. She’s showing you instead.”
They stood like that. Neither retreating. Neither advancing.
“I don’t know what I expected,” Alexis said finally. Cam’s jaw flexed. Alexis stared for a moment. “Did Nicole ask you to stand down?”
“No.” Cam’s voice dropped. “Didn’t need to. She was already gone when I looked up.” The truth burned, but she let it hang there. Then, quieter, she added, “But I’m here now. For her. Not for the past.”
Alexis’s eyes softened. “I believe that.”
Cam exhaled once. She let her stance ease, just slightly. “I’m not in her rearview to mess with your lane. If anything, I’m the guardrail. You don’t have to like me. But I’m not your threat.”
Alexis nodded slowly. “Maybe we could be something close to… friendly.” Cam reached for the doorknob. “We could. If we keep showing up for the same reason.”
“And what’s that?”
Cam opened the door, sunlight angling in over her shoulder. “Nicole. At peace. As much as she can be.”
She stepped out. The rising desert heat clung low and heavy against the stone walkways of Sorelle. She didn’t look back. Nicole was walking into something, but she wasn’t walking in alone. Alexis was there for her, and that was enough.
By the SUV, Cam paused. Pulled out her phone. Thumb hovered, then tapped:
NICOLE: 6:17 AM
We’re good. Good luck.
The Thing She Didn’t Need - Nicole
Nicole’s Suite, 11:15 AM
The knock came sharp, deliberate. Nicole opened the door herself, already steadying her breath.
Jim Watmore entered first, crisp linen shirt as always, his jaw tense. Lorraine Cho was last, already scrolling through something on her tablet like she knew how this would end. Nicole had brewed a fresh carafe of black coffee. She offered it once. They declined.
The suite was washed in pale sunlight, blinds pulled wide. The smell of cedar from the furniture mixed with the sharp citrus she’d dabbed on her wrist that morning as ritual, not perfume. The folders were already laid out on the low table. Labeled. Precise.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
They didn’t sit. That was fine.
“These are my terms.” Her voice didn’t shake. “Effective noon today, I resign as interim CEO.”
Both heads snapped toward her.
“The folders cover everything: retention of IP oversight, advisory rights to the innovation archive, and limited board presence. The rest is yours.”
Lorraine opened hers immediately. Jim didn’t even touch it.
“You’re leaving me with this shit,” Jim muttered.
Nicole let the pause stretch. “I left you a plan.”
She poured herself half a cup of coffee, the steam warming her hand.
“Some legacies need protection,” she said, meeting Jim’s eyes. “Others need to be released.” He gave a short laugh, no joy in it.
“It’s always your choice. Both of you.” Her voice softened. “You’ll have a place with me… when I get where I’m going.”
They didn’t speak. Lorraine lingered a moment at the door, her look a mix of respect and warning. As they stepped out, Jim glanced back.
“You sure?”
“For the first time in years.”
The silence she was left with felt earned.
-------------------
Sorelle Conference Room, 12:03 PM
The air inside the boardroom buzzed with chilled quiet. Nicole could feel it from the hallway. Already pulsing with speculation.
Jim stood at the head, calling the meeting to order. She was two steps late. By design.
Every chair was filled. Sam Huntington sat low in his seat, unusually quiet. Mitchell Scott drummed a pen slowly; boredom, or something sharper.
Elizabeth sat like she was carved into the chair itself. Rick Chambers next to her, already preening. Charles lounged, but his gaze flicked to the door the second it opened. Alexis… Alexis was a study in stillness. Hands flat. Spine straight. Eyes forward, but only until Nicole walked in.
She didn’t dress for them. She dressed for clarity. A pale blouse, soft navy slacks, no jewelry. Her hair pinned with a few wayward strands escaping. She looked like herself. Finally.
She walked to her seat but didn’t sit.
“Before we begin,” she said, voice anchored.
All movement stopped.
“I won’t ask you to vote on something you don’t understand. And I won’t sit at a table that’s still mourning the past while pretending to build a future.”
She caught Charles’s expression. Something unreadable, but alert.
“This company raised me. Challenged me. Broke me in ways most of you never saw. I gave it my best years. Not as a daughter, or a placeholder, or a compromise…but as a builder.”
Alexis shifted. Only slightly. But enough.
“So I’m taking my vision somewhere else. Templeton is looking for a leader who wants to protect what was. I’m not her.”
She held their eyes, one by one. Elizabeth last.
“Effective immediately, I resign as interim CEO, and remove my name from any further consideration.”
She turned. No papers. No folder. Nothing more to say.
Charles’s hand twitched. Two fingers briefly tapping his chest. A quiet salute.
Alexis didn’t rise. But her grip on the folder in her hand changed, knuckles loosening.
The door closed behind Nicole, the sound heavier than expected. Like a page turning.
-------------------
Sorelle Courtyard 12:15pm
Air. She walked fast, too fast. The marble gave way to stone, then sky, then mesquite and desert bloom. Her heels clicked once, then she slipped them off, carrying them like dead weight.
“Nicole!”
She heard the practiced urgency before she turned. Aaron was striding toward her, jacket straight, smile just visible, like he knew someone could be watching from a window.
“Hey.” His voice softened, all fiancé polish. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She smoothed her tone to match. “Of course.”
He searched her face, still in character. “But… I thought you wanted this.”
“So did I,” she sighed, playing her part. “But it’s just… too much right now.”
The smile cracked. His jaw set. “This wasn’t the plan.”
Her own mask didn’t slip. Not yet. “It’s a better plan. Rick suits you. And my mother. Everyone gets what they want.”
His voice sharpened, the veneer finally gone. “You torched your future in there.”
“No.” She tilted her head, almost pitying. “I freed it. And I’ll follow through with everything we agreed to….the engagement party tomorrow. That way you get your board seat, my mother gets her photo op, and I get to clear my head.”
Color rose in his neck. “You can’t just…”
“You win, Aaron.” She cut him off, flat and final. “You get it all. Tell my mom the girls are taking me out tonight for some bachelorette thing. She’ll like that, and so should you. Just come by and pick me up at my place at 2:00pm, so we can get on with it.”
She didn’t wait for his reply. She walked past him, barefoot, the stone cool against her skin.
Sorelle Driveway – 12:45 PM
Beneath a palo verde, its slatted shadow striping her arms, she let herself stop. Her shoes dangled from two fingers, useless now. Sun on her face. Her lungs opened.
She pulled out her phone. Operation F that guy is officially in play.
CHARLES: Took you long enough. I’ve been dressed for this funeral since Tuesday.
Her lips curled. No speeches needed. She typed again, to Alexis. Need a ride. Front circle. Grab the girls. Bring the good playlist.
The weight in her chest hadn’t lifted completely, but it had shifted. No more noise. No more pretending. Just the next move waiting, and the start of something different.