Chapter 2 - The Fiancée Who Had Been Lying for the Wrong ReasonCamille's mother was named Rebecca Laurent.
The doctor found bruises around her wrists, dehydration, and a shallow knife wound beneath her ribs.
Someone had held her captive for nineteen days.
By two in the morning, the Moretti estate had become a fortress.
Marco doubled security.
Every employee was checked.
Every vehicle searched.
Camille sat alone in my library.
Her engagement ring was still on her finger.
I entered.
She looked up.
“You hate me.”
“I don't know you well enough to hate you.”
That hurt her.
Good.
I wanted the truth.
“Start talking.”
Camille stared at the fire.
Then she removed the engagement ring.
She placed it on the desk.
“My brother owed Victor Hale eight million dollars.”
I remained silent.
“He gambled. Then borrowed. Then lied about how much he'd borrowed.”
“And Victor?”
“Bought the debt.”
“Why?”
“To get to you.”
She explained everything.
Victor knew Camille attended the same charity events as my family.
He ordered her brother to introduce us.
At first, Camille refused.
Then Victor threatened her mother.
So Camille approached me.
The first dinner.
The first kiss.
The relationship.
All planned.
I felt something cold move through me.
“Was any of it real?”
Camille cried.
“Eventually.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don't know.”
“Convenient.”
“I know.”
I turned away.
She continued.
“Victor wanted me to marry you. Afterward, I was supposed to persuade you to move assets into the joint holding company.”
“And the altered prenup?”
“I changed it.”
I looked back.
“At Victor's order?”
“Yes.”
“So if I died—”
“He would control the companies through me.”
“Meaning I was supposed to die.”
Camille said nothing.
That was enough.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie again.”
“I don't know!”
Her voice broke.
“I was trying to stop it.”
“By throwing boiling tea at Elena?”
Shame crossed her face.
“No.”
“Then explain that.”
Camille covered her face.
“I thought Elena was working for Victor.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“She saw us together.”
“So you burned her?”
“I panicked.”
“That doesn't excuse it.”
“I know.”
“No, Camille. I don't think you do.”
She looked at me.
“You were frightened, so you attacked someone with less power than you.”
Tears ran down her face.
“That wasn't Victor.”
I pointed toward her.
“That was you.”
She had no defense.
And for the first time, she didn't try to create one.
“I was cruel.”
“Yes.”
“I deserve what happened tonight.”
“No.”
She looked confused.
“You deserve to lose this engagement because of what you did.”
I paused.
“You don't deserve to be murdered.”
Something shifted in her expression.
Hope.
I killed it immediately.
“We are not getting back together.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I understand.”
“Good.”
“But Victor is still coming.”
“I know.”
“You don't understand him.”
“No.”
I looked toward the door.
“But he's about to understand me.”
Three floors above us, Elena Brooks sat beside Rebecca's bed.
Rebecca woke slowly.
She saw Elena's burned arm.
“What happened?”
Elena hesitated.
“Your daughter.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
“You didn't do it.”
“No.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“But I raised her.”
Elena didn't know what to say.
Rebecca whispered, “Camille wasn't always like this.”
“People change.”
“Sometimes fear changes them.”
Elena looked down at her bandage.
“Fear doesn't make everyone cruel.”
Rebecca nodded.
“No.”
She looked at Elena carefully.
“That's why Gabriel needs people like you around him.”
Elena almost laughed.
“Mr. Moretti barely knows I exist.”
Rebecca's expression changed.
“He knows now.”
Meanwhile, Marco found something.
One of our guards was missing.
Anthony Russo.
Six years working for my family.
Married.
Two children.
Trusted.
His locker contained thirty thousand dollars in cash.
Victor had bought someone inside my house.
Maybe more than one.
At 3:14 a.m., Marco entered my library.
“We found a device.”
“Where?”
“Your car.”
Camille stood.
“What kind?”
Marco looked at her.
“Bomb.”
Silence.
Camille went pale.
“When?”
“Timer was set for tomorrow morning.”
I stared at her.
Tomorrow morning I was scheduled to drive to Boston.
Alone.
Camille began shaking.
“That was the plan.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She whispered, “Victor said everything would change tomorrow.”
My phone vibrated.
A message.
A photograph.
Elena.
Taken through the bedroom window minutes earlier.
Beneath it:
YOU SAVED THE WRONG WOMAN.
I ran upstairs.
Elena was gone.
The window stood open.
Blood marked the frame.
Marco found one guard unconscious outside.
Then another message arrived.
BRING CAMILLE.
NO POLICE.
NO MARCO.
MIDNIGHT.
I stared at the screen.
Camille appeared behind me.
“I'll go.”
“No.”
“He wants me.”
“He wants leverage.”
“Gabriel.”
“No.”
“You ended our engagement because I hurt Elena.”
“Yes.”
“Then let me fix one thing.”
“You can't fix what you did by becoming a hostage.”
She looked at me.
“No.”
Her voice was quieter.
“But maybe I can finally stop running from what I've done.”
At midnight, Camille and I drove toward an abandoned textile mill outside Lowell.
She sat beside me.
No ring.
No silk dress.
No arrogance.
Just fear.
“Gabriel?”
“What?”
“If we survive this…”
“We will.”
“Let me apologize to Elena myself.”
“You should.”
“And if she doesn't forgive me?”
“That is her decision.”
Camille nodded.
For perhaps the first time since I had met her, she understood something important.
An apology did not purchase forgiveness.
We reached the mill.
Victor Hale waited inside.
Elena was tied to a chair.
Her burned arm was bandaged.
A gunman stood behind her.
Victor smiled.
“Gabriel.”
“Let her go.”
“Give me Camille.”
Camille stepped forward.
“No.”
I caught her wrist.
Victor laughed.
“Still protecting her?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Protecting myself from bad trades.”
Victor's smile faded.
“You think this is funny?”
“No.”
“Your father stole everything from mine.”
“My father is dead.”
“And yours died rich.”
“So this is revenge?”
“This is correction.”
Elena looked at me.
Then subtly looked upward.
I followed her eyes.
Catwalk.
Two additional gunmen.
Marco had taught me long ago that frightened people often stared at the weapon.
Elena was staring at exits.
Smart.
Very smart.
Victor stepped toward Camille.
“Come here.”
Camille didn't move.
“You kidnapped my mother.”
“You disobeyed me.”
“You were going to kill Gabriel.”
Victor smiled.
“I still am.”
Gunfire exploded.
Not mine.
Marco's.
He had followed despite my instructions.
One gunman fell.
Elena threw herself sideways with the chair.
I hit Victor.
Camille grabbed the fallen man's weapon.
For one second she aimed it at Victor.
Her finger tightened.
I saw the decision in her face.
“Camille.”
She looked at me.
“Don't become him.”
Her hand shook.
Then she lowered the gun.
Victor laughed.
“You're weak.”
Camille looked at him.
“No.”
Police sirens approached.
Marco had called them before entering.
“For the first time,” Camille said, “I'm not.”
Victor ran.
He disappeared through a rear door before police surrounded the building.
Elena survived.
Camille survived.
Victor escaped.
And when we returned home shortly before dawn, Marco gave me the worst news yet.
Victor hadn't kidnapped Elena because of Camille.
He had searched Elena's apartment first.
He was looking for something.
Something Elena's father had hidden twenty years earlier.
May you like
Something connected to mine.
And Elena Brooks—the maid Camille had considered beneath her—might be the only person alive who could destroy Victor Hale completely.
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