Chapter 5 - Someone Inside the House
Camille stared at the photograph.
Her apartment.
Her windows.
Her front steps.
Home.
Until that moment, everything had happened inside Lucian’s world.
The mansion.
His staff.
His enemies.
His brother.
Now the boundary was gone.
Lucian took the photograph.
His expression became unreadable.
“Your apartment is empty?”
“Yes.”
“Family?”
“My mother lives in Maryland.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
Lucian looked at Dante.
“Put a team on her mother.”
Camille’s head snapped up.
“No.”
Lucian ignored her.
“Discreet. She sees nothing.”
Dante nodded.
Camille stepped between them.
“I said no.”
Lucian faced her.
“And I heard you.”
“My mother is not part of this.”
“That is exactly why she gets protection.”
“You don’t send armed men around my mother without asking.”
“If Valenti has your address, he may have hers.”
That stopped her.
Lucian lowered his voice.
“This is not control.”
Camille’s throat tightened.
“It feels like it.”
“I know.”
That answer surprised her.
He continued.
“But I would rather have you angry with me than bury someone you love.”
Silence.
Camille looked away.
“Fine.”
Lucian nodded once.
Not triumphant.
Relieved.
That mattered too.
The next morning, they planned the exchange.
Dante traced Valenti’s likely location through the video metadata.
An abandoned private club near the river.
Three entrances.
One underground garage.
Lucian wanted force.
Camille wanted deception.
Matteo’s life hung between them.
“We give him what he expects,” Camille said.
Lucian leaned over the table.
“He expects you.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She exhaled.
“Lucian.”
“No.”
“You keep saying that as if repetition improves the argument.”
He stared at her.
Dante pretended to study the floor plan.
Camille continued.
“Valenti thinks I have the memory card.”
“You do not.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“He will search you.”
“Then we give him something to find.”
Lucian understood.
“A copy.”
“A controlled copy.”
Dante nodded.
“Tracking device in the casing.”
Lucian looked displeased.
Camille smiled.
“See? Teamwork.”
He did not smile back.
But his eyes did.
A little.
At six that evening, Camille found Matteo’s training notes on the breakfast-room table.
Lesson 1: Stop interrupting people.
Lesson 2: Do not insult donors.
Lesson 3: Apparently, chairs have rules.
Lesson 4: Camille is always right. Do not tell Camille I wrote this.
She laughed.
Then stopped.
Matteo might die tonight.
The thought came suddenly.
Uninvited.
For all his foolishness, he had become familiar.
A younger brother she never asked for.
A client who drove her insane.
A man trying, badly, to become better.
Lucian entered.
He saw the notes.
“He likes you.”
“I insult him professionally.”
“That may be why.”
Camille folded the paper.
“How old were you when your father died?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“And Matteo?”
“Twenty-three.”
“He became your responsibility.”
Lucian’s expression closed.
“Yes.”
“You became his father.”
“No.”
“You tried to.”
Lucian looked at her.
“I kept him alive.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“It was the priority.”
“And after?”
Lucian did not answer.
Camille softened.
“You can’t protect someone into becoming an adult.”
He looked toward the window.
“I know that now.”
She studied him.
“You don’t have to fix everything tonight.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
His gaze returned.
“That must hurt,” she said.
“What?”
“Being corrected.”
A faint smile appeared.
Real this time.
Brief.
Dangerous to her heart.
Camille looked away first.
At eleven thirty, they left.
Camille wore a simple dark coat over her burgundy dress.
Lucian wore black.
No tie.
Dante drove a separate vehicle.
Security followed unseen.
At 11:58, Camille and Lucian entered the abandoned club.
Dusty chandeliers.
Empty bar.
Old leather booths.
One light burned over the center floor.
Matteo sat beneath it.
Alive.
Rafael Valenti stood behind him.
Adrian Bellini stood at Rafael’s right.
Camille felt Lucian go still beside her.
Adrian smiled.
“Good evening.”
Lucian’s voice was ice.
“Release him.”
Rafael raised one hand.
“First, the card.”
Camille stepped forward.
Lucian caught her elbow.
She looked at him.
He released her.
Slowly.
Camille took the fake memory card from her pocket.
Adrian approached.
He searched her coat.
Her handbag.
Her sleeves.
Then took the card.
“You always were observant,” he said.
Camille studied him.
“You left too many details.”
His smile vanished slightly.
She continued.
“The newspaper was arrogant.”
“You noticed it.”
“That was your mistake.”
“No.”
Adrian leaned close.
“My mistake was assuming Lucian would dismiss you as quickly as everyone else does.”
The words hit.
Camille’s eyes narrowed.
“Everyone else?”
Adrian smiled again.
“A woman like you. Temporary consultant. Hired help. Decorative problem solver.”
Lucian’s voice came from behind her.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
Adrian looked at him.
There was something different in Lucian’s tone.
Not business.
Personal.
Rafael noticed too.
“Oh,” he said softly. “That explains it.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened.
Rafael laughed.
“You care about her.”
Camille’s pulse jumped.
Lucian gave nothing away.
Rafael looked delighted.
“This becomes much more useful.”
He snapped his fingers.
Two men seized Camille.
Lucian moved.
A weapon appeared against Matteo’s shoulder.
Lucian stopped.
Rafael smiled.
“Now we renegotiate.”
Camille struggled once.
Stopped.
Think.
That was what she told Matteo constantly.
Pause before reacting.
Look at the room.
See what everyone else misses.
One guard holding her wore expensive shoes.
Wrong for an abandoned club.
Another kept glancing toward the rear hall.
Adrian’s left hand remained inside his jacket.
Rafael’s attention stayed entirely on Lucian.
And Matteo—
Matteo was working one hand free.
Very slowly.
Camille met his eyes.
He looked away immediately.
Good.
He had learned something.
Rafael said, “The development contracts. The shipping rights. And one final thing.”
Lucian’s face stayed cold.
“What?”
“Your resignation from the Moretti Foundation.”
Camille realized what he wanted.
Not merely money.
Reputation.
Control.
Removal.
Lucian said, “Release them.”
“Sign first.”
A folder appeared.
Lucian took the pen.
Camille stared at him.
“No.”
Rafael smiled.
Lucian looked at her.
“No,” she repeated.
“Camille.”
“He wants you to trade everything.”
“I know.”
“For us.”
“I know.”
Matteo shouted, “Don’t!”
The guard hit the back of his chair.
Camille flinched.
Lucian’s eyes darkened.
He signed.
One page.
Then another.
Rafael’s smile widened.
Camille’s chest tightened.
“You idiot,” she whispered.
Lucian looked at her.
“You are becoming repetitive.”
Despite everything, she almost laughed.
Then the lights went out.
Not Valenti’s plan.
Dante’s.
Camille dropped instantly.
The man holding her lost his grip.
Noise exploded through the room.
Commands.
Footsteps.
Matteo’s chair fell over.
Lucian grabbed Camille and pulled her behind the bar.
A shot cracked somewhere above them.
Then another.
Lucian shielded her with his body.
“Stay down.”
Camille whispered, “You signed.”
“Fake documents.”
She stared at him.
He looked almost offended.
“You thought I was that easy?”
“You were very convincing.”
“I had a good coach.”
Dante’s voice shouted, “Clear!”
The emergency lights came on.
Valenti was gone.
Adrian too.
Matteo was free.
He stumbled toward Lucian.
For one second the brothers just stared at each other.
Then Lucian pulled him into a rough embrace.
Matteo froze.
Then hugged him back.
Camille looked away.
Some moments deserved privacy.
Dante crossed toward them.
“Valenti escaped through the rear passage.”
Lucian released Matteo.
“Adrian?”
“Missing.”
Camille’s stomach tightened.
Dante’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Repeat that.”
Lucian stepped closer.
“What?”
Dante ended the call.
He looked directly at Camille.
“The team at your mother’s house is not responding.”
Camille stopped breathing.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One photograph arrived.
May you like
Her mother sitting at her kitchen table.
And behind her stood Adrian Bellini.
