Aurélie's mind was racing with questions. Who was Camille, and how did she know so much about Max? What did she mean by "the truth" about Max?
Camille smiled, as if she knew exactly what Aurélie was thinking. "Come with me," she said, turning and walking away.
Aurélie hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity got the better of her. She followed Camille through the winding streets of Montmartre, eventually arriving at a small café.
Camille led Aurélie to a table in the back, where she pulled out a folder filled with papers and photographs. "This is the truth about Max," she said, her eyes locked on Aurélie's.
As Aurélie began to flip through the papers, her eyes widened in shock. There were articles and interviews, all of which painted Max as a ruthless and cunning individual.
But it was the photographs that really caught Aurélie's attention. They showed Max with a woman, a woman who was definitely not Aurélie.
"Who is this?" Aurélie asked, her voice shaking with anger.
Camille's expression was sympathetic. "That's Max's wife," she said. "The one he's been keeping secret from you."
Aurélie felt like she had been punched in the gut. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
But as she looked at the photographs, she saw something that made her heart skip a beat. It was a look, a look that Max had given his wife. It was a look of love, of adoration.
And in that moment, Aurélie knew that she had been blind. She had been so caught up in her own feelings for Max that she had ignored the warning signs.
But now, she saw the truth. Max was still in love with his wife, and he had been using Aurélie all along.