Chapter 221: Stolen Flash Drive

Naomi didn’t let her finish.

A roar tore out of her.

She drove her fist straight into Camille’s eye.

Camille screamed.

Naomi grabbed a fistful of her hair before Dorian had even fully processed the sound. "I have had enough of your bullshit!!!" She yanked Camille’s head back and started dragging her away from the bedroom door. "Get your skinny ass... flat chest... starving... rejected behind... the fuck out of my husband’s house!"

Every insult came with another angry pull as Naomi hauled her toward the stairs.

Camille stumbled after her, trying to pry Naomi’s hand out of her hair, but Naomi was operating on a level of fury that came with its own supply of strength.

Dorian finally found some sense. He pulled out his phone and dialled 911 again.

Not because Camille was his priority. But because there was now a very real possibility his wife was going to kill someone, and although Dorian was an excellent lawyer, he preferred not to test exactly how creative he could become with a murder defense involving an ex-wife.

"I’m not playing with you, you bitch!" Naomi shoved Camille down the first flight of stairs.

Camille screamed again as she caught herself against the railing.

"How dare you?!"

Dorian hurried after them, phone still in hand, , while trying to explain to emergency services exactly what kind of domestic catastrophe was currently unfolding without sounding completely insane. He knew better than to grab Naomi.

For one thing, he had no idea how much trouble he was personally in yet, and putting his hands on her while she was in this state felt like an excellent way to find out.

For another, she was furious enough to turn on anyone who got between her and her target. Still, he was beginning to worry that if he did nothing, his wife might genuinely need a lawyer by the end of the night.

And yes, technically she already had one. That was not the point.

Camille took one look at Naomi coming after her and abandoned whatever dignity she had left. She ran. Her earlier confidence had vanished.

Naomi chased her with murder in her eyes. "Get your raggedy ass back here!" she yelled.

Dorian smiled.

Make up your mind. Do you want her gone or do you want her here?

He nearly said it aloud.

But God forbid.

"You’re a psycho!!!" Camille screamed as she hurried down the steps. "You’re a fucking psychopath!!"

Naomi chased after her. "You want my husband? Uhn?"

Camille glanced back and immediately looked forward again.

"You want my husband, come get him... you piece of stinking shit."

Dorian followed several steps behind.

Camille’s foot slipped on one of the steps. She stumbled forward.

It looked as though she might fall.

Naomi grabbed her arm and jerked her backward before she could.

Camille spun around.

Naomi’s hand flew across her face.

The slap cracked through the stairwell and then she dropped properly again, tumbling down another flight.

Naomi was completely clouded by emotion.

There was no thought behind anything she was doing anymore. All she knew was that she had reached her limit.

Camille had pushed and pushed and pushed until there was nothing left in Naomi except fury.

"What?" Naomi yelled as Camille scrambled away from her. "You can’t fight for a man you so desperately want?! Come on!"

Camille cried out and screamed Dorian’s name like he was supposed to become her rescue team.

He was not particularly inspired.

She ran for the front door and grabbed at the handle, desperate to get it open before Naomi caught up with her.

Naomi reached her first.

Once again, she grabbed Camille by the hair, yanking her backward with one hand while using the other to help pull the front door open.

She was technically helping Camille escape while simultaneously refusing to let her escape.

Camille kept screaming.

Naomi kept pulling.

Dorian followed behind them.

Then headlights swept across the front of the house. A patrol car pulled up.

She released Camille.

Camille stumbled forward, clutching herself and breathing hard.

Two officers stepped out. One of them looked between the half-dressed woman standing near the entrance, the furious woman behind her and Dorian emerging from the house.

"What’s going on here?" the officer asked.

Dorian stepped outside. "Criminal and aggravated trespass," he said calmly. "Stalking. Harassment."

Camille whipped around. "That’s not true! This is my home!"

Naomi’s head snapped toward her.

That was the wrong thing to say. Red flooded back into her vision.

She launched herself toward Camille.

Dorian reacted instantly, catching Naomi around the waist before she could reach her. "Down, Tiger. I got this."

"This is not your house!"

Dorian tightened his hold slightly. He had no intention of letting go until he was absolutely certain his wife was no longer planning to commit a crime in front of two police officers.

Camille turned toward them dramatically. "Look what she did to me!" She pointed toward her face, her hair and whatever other evidence of Naomi’s rage she could display. "What kind of person does this? A raging lunatic! I want her arrested!"

One of the officers quickly stepped closer to Camille, trying to calm her down before the scene exploded all over again.

"Ma’am, why don’t you wait in the patrol car while we sort this out?"

Camille looked outraged. "I was attacked!"

"We understand. Please wait in the car."

"Please escort her out of here, officers. I’ll get her car out." Dorian said.

"No, I’ll get it," Naomi said immediately. "You stay with the kind officers." She forced a smile so unnatural it was terrifying and went back into the house. She marched back into the house with her anger still burning hot beneath her skin.

Camille’s handbag was exactly where she had left it in the living room.

Naomi picked it up, dropped onto one knee beside the coffee table and started searching through it for the car fob. She wasn’t particularly gentle about it.

Then she found the fob.

She was just about to close the bag when something caught her eye.

A flash drive. There was a Heathcliffe logo on it.

She had seen those drives around the firm, Dorian had a few. Adrian had even once given her one. Heathcliffe & Associates used customised flash drives regularly. She pulled it out.

Whatever she could find on Camille, she would use.

Dorian had told her what to do when someone hit her.

Hit back harder.

Naomi slipped the flash drive into her back pocket.

If there was something on there she could use, Camille was totally fucked.

She grabbed the handbag, picked up the sunglasses Camille had left behind and headed toward the garage.

Then she saw the green Lamborghini. And right then, every ounce of fury Naomi had managed not to use on the woman herself found another destination.

Her gaze drifted toward the tools compartment.

Extremely bad idea.

Naomi knew that. She also did not care. She walked over, opened it and pulled out a hammer. She stood there with the hammer in her hand, looking at the Lamborghini, giving herself one final chance to reconsider. She did not.

The first strike cracked one of the windows.

She swung again.

And again.

By the time she finally stopped, her breathing was heavy and the anger still pulsing through her had nowhere near disappeared, but the Lamborghini had definitely suffered for Camille’s sins.

Naomi dropped the hammer, picked up the fob and climbed into the car.

When she finally drove it out of the garage, even Dorian gasped.

His eyes widened as the damaged Urus rolled into view.

Naomi parked and got out.

Camille saw the car. Her scream could probably have been heard from the next block. "Oh my God!!! What did you do to my car?"