Chapter 2 - The Woman Before Camille
Adrien did not open the door.
He moved Camille behind him with one arm and silently checked the peephole.
A thin man in a brown coat stood outside.
No visible weapon.
No obvious backup.
Adrien called security.
Camille caught his wrist.
“No.”
His eyes dropped to her hand.
“Why?”
“Because I know him.”
That was worse.
“Who?”
“Elias Ward.”
“What does he want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you don’t know him well enough for me to open this door.”
Elias knocked again.
“Ms. Arden, please. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Adrien’s voice turned cold.
“Everyone says that immediately before becoming inconvenient.”
Camille almost smiled despite herself.
“Let him in.”
“No.”
“It’s my apartment.”
“And someone threatened you thirty seconds ago.”
“Technically, they threatened my business.”
“That distinction is not helping.”
Camille opened the door herself.
Adrien’s expression promised a future argument.
Elias Ward stepped inside and immediately stopped when he recognized Adrien.
“Kovac.”
“Ward.”
“You know each other?” Camille asked.
“No,” both men answered.
Which meant yes.
Elias looked about fifty, exhausted, with rain-darkened shoulders and an old leather briefcase.
He placed it carefully on Camille’s table.
“My sister was Evelyn Ward.”
Camille frowned.
“The former tenant?”
“Owner.”
“The landlord said—”
“The landlord lied.”
Adrien stepped closer.
“Start again.”
Elias opened the briefcase.
Inside were photographs.
The same house Camille had leased.
But these photographs were old.
One showed a younger woman standing beneath the front arch.
Another showed burned paperwork scattered across an office floor.
A third showed a black sedan.
Adrien recognized it.
His father’s.
He went still.
Elias noticed.
“So you do remember.”
“I remember the car.”
“It belonged to Viktor Kovac.”
Camille looked at Adrien.
His father had been dead eleven years.
Elias pulled out a contract.
“Evelyn was building an event company in that house eighteen years ago. She died three weeks before opening.”
“How?” Camille asked.
“Officially? Car accident.”
“And unofficially?”
Elias looked at Adrien.
“She found financial records connecting powerful Chicago families through legitimate businesses used to conceal illegal transfers.”
Adrien’s voice sharpened.
“Careful.”
“I’ve spent eighteen years being careful.”
Elias pushed the photograph toward him.
“Your father tried to help her.”
Adrien stared.
That was not what he expected.
Elias continued.
“Viktor discovered somebody inside his organization was using Kovac companies without authorization. Evelyn had invoices. Names. Accounts.”
“Where are they?”
“Missing.”
“Then why contact Camille?”
“Because Evelyn hid something in the house.”
Camille shook her head.
“I toured every room.”
“You toured what they wanted you to see.”
Elias opened another photograph.
A wall.
A fireplace.
A carved wooden panel.
“Behind this panel is a compartment.”
Camille studied it.
“That wall isn’t there anymore.”
“It is. It’s covered.”
Adrien’s phone rang.
His security chief, Tomas.
Adrien answered.
“What?”
Tomas spoke for twenty seconds.
Adrien’s expression became harder with every word.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Keep him there.”
Adrien ended the call.
Camille knew that face.
“What happened?”
“Someone entered my office tonight.”
“What did they take?”
“Nothing.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“They left something.”
“What?”
Adrien looked at Elias.
“A photograph of Evelyn Ward.”
Silence.
Elias sat down.
For the first time, he looked frightened.
Camille folded her arms.
“Why now?”
“Because you signed the lease.”
“That information isn’t public.”
“I know.”
Adrien turned toward her corkboard.
“How many people knew?”
“Broker. Attorney. Insurance agent. Contractor.”
“Anyone connected to my company?”
“No.”
“Your payment?”
“My money.”
Something like pride flickered through his irritation.
“Good.”
Camille stared.
“Did you expect me to steal yours?”
“I expected you to let me invest.”
“That would defeat the purpose.”
“What purpose?”
“Having something that is mine.”
The answer silenced him again.
Elias watched them with increasing interest.
“You two should probably have that conversation later.”
“We are not having a conversation,” Camille said.
Adrien spoke simultaneously.
“We will.”
Elias cleared his throat.
“The important thing is the house.”
He produced a key.
Old brass.
“Evelyn mailed this to me the day before she died.”
Camille stared at it.
“What does it open?”
“I never found out.”
Adrien took the key.
“No one goes there tonight.”
Camille held out her hand.
“My building. My key.”
“No.”
“Adrien.”
“You have a fever.”
“That does not transfer property rights.”
Elias unexpectedly laughed.
Adrien looked at him.
He stopped.
Camille took the key.
“We go tomorrow.”
“We?”
She looked at Adrien.
“You weren’t invited.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
Her phone rang.
The screen showed her broker.
Camille answered.
“Daniel?”
Static.
Then breathing.
“Daniel?”
A strained voice finally spoke.
“Camille, don’t come to the house.”
She straightened.
“Why?”
“I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“The lease wasn’t supposed to go to you.”
Adrien moved closer.
Camille put the call on speaker.
Daniel whispered, “Someone paid me to make sure you saw that property.”
Camille’s blood ran cold.
“Who?”
“I don’t know. The instructions came through a holding company.”
“What company?”
A crash sounded through the phone.
Daniel gasped.
Then silence.
“Daniel?”
Footsteps.
Someone picked up his phone.
A different voice spoke.
“Ms. Arden.”
Adrien took the phone.
“Who is this?”
The caller laughed softly.
“You should ask your bride.”
The call ended.
Camille looked at Adrien.
His face had become perfectly still.
His fiancée had just been pulled into the mystery.
And somewhere across Chicago, Adrien Kovac was already reaching for another phone when Camille’s screen lit up with a photograph.
May you like
It showed his bride entering Ardan House.
The timestamp was from ten minutes ago.
