She Found Another Woman’s Ultrasound Hours Before Her Wedding, but the Mafia Boss Who Came for Her Groom Knew Why He Had Kept It
She stared at him.
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning about a man whose choices have already dragged you closer to my business than either of us should want.”
Ezra removed a plain white card from his pocket.
A phone number.
Nothing else.
“If Trevor contacts you, call me.”
“And if I don’t?”
His gaze held hers.
“Then you’ll be protecting a man who left you to answer the door when the consequences arrived.”
The words struck harder because they were true.
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Ezra turned away, then stopped.
“One more thing.”
Camille waited.
“I saw the photograph in your hand through the window.”
Her blood chilled.
“The ultrasound?”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“You know Mara.”
“I know the name.”
“How?”
“Ask Trevor.”
“He’s gone.”
“Then I suggest you hope he calls.”
The black sedan disappeared down the street.
Camille remained by the gate with the white card in one hand and Trevor’s ring in the other.
Nadia stared after the car.
“Your life became completely insane in twelve hours.”
Camille looked at the ultrasound still visible upstairs through the bedroom window.
“No,” she whispered.
“I think it was insane already. I just didn’t know.”
Trevor called three nights later at 2:13 a.m.
Camille answered before the second ring.
“Where are you?”
“Listen to me. I don’t have much time.”
Traffic rushed behind him.
“Did Kane come to the house?”
“Yes.”
A curse.
“Camille, you cannot trust him.”
“You left me alone to deal with him.”
“I had no choice.”
“You had eighty thousand choices.”
“That money was supposed to be temporary.”
“So was Mara?”
Silence.
Camille sat upright.
“Whose baby is it?”
Trevor breathed heavily.
“Mara’s.”
“I know whose body it’s inside.”
“Mine.”
The word hurt.
Not because she still wanted him.
Because hearing betrayal plainly spoken was different from imagining it.
“Why was the ultrasound in your pocket?”
Another pause.
Too long.
“Trevor?”
“I forgot it was there.”
Camille remembered Ezra’s face when he saw it.
She remembered Trevor’s panic the night she discovered it.
“That’s a lie.”
“Camille—”
“What is Mara’s last name?”
“You already know.”
“Radcliffe.”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It mattered enough for you to run.”
His breathing changed.
“Listen carefully. If Kane asks where I am, tell him I called from an airport. Tell him I said I was leaving the country.”
“You want me to lie to him.”
“I want you safe.”
“You want yourself safe.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Camille.”
“I spent two years trusting you because love is impossible if every ordinary moment requires an investigation. You used that trust like a hiding place. I’m finished being your hiding place.”
“You don’t understand what these people are capable of.”
“Then come back and explain it.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
She disconnected.
For several minutes, Camille sat in the dark.
Then she picked up Ezra’s card.
He answered personally.
“Miss Hunt.”
“Trevor called.”
A pause.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. But he wanted me to tell you he was leaving the country.”
“And what are you telling me?”
“That he asked me to lie.”
Ezra was silent.
“I won’t.”
When he spoke again, something had softened.
“Why?”
Camille laughed bitterly.
“Because apparently honesty has become the most rebellious decision available to me.”
They met the following evening at a quiet restaurant downtown.
Ezra had two men nearby, though neither sat at their table.
Camille noticed.
“You travel with an audience.”
“I travel with men who are paid to notice danger before I do.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
For the first time, she saw him almost smile.
Then his expression turned serious.
“Trevor’s debt is his.”
“You threatened me on my lawn.”
“I informed you badly.”
“That is an impressive euphemism.”
“I’ve been told diplomacy is not my strength.”
Camille folded her arms.
“Then try honesty.”
Ezra leaned back.
“Trevor borrowed eighty thousand dollars. But that is no longer the only reason people are looking for him.”
“Mara.”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Ezra stared at the table for a moment before answering.
“Mara Radcliffe is Griffin Radcliffe’s daughter.”
Camille frowned.
“Who is Griffin?”
“A man whose organization has been competing with mine for years.”
Her stomach dropped.
“And Trevor slept with his daughter.”
“For approximately a year.”
“How do you know?”
“Because three weeks ago Trevor approached one of my people asking whether information about Griffin’s family would have value.”
Camille’s skin went cold.
“What information?”
Ezra looked at her.
“I believe the answer is inside your apartment.”
“The ultrasound.”
“Yes.”
Camille stared at him.
“No.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Trevor said he forgot it was in his pocket.”
“Trevor lies when breathing would be easier.”
“What was he planning to do with it?”
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“I don’t know yet.”
For the first time since meeting Ezra, Camille saw anger directed not at her, but for her.
