Chapter 2 - The Dead Man’s Invitation
The doors opened.
Lucian’s security chief entered carrying a black leather folder.
No stranger followed him.
Camille wasn’t sure whether that made her feel better or worse.
“Original contract,” he said.
Lucian took it.
His name was Enzo Caruso, Camille had learned earlier. He was in his forties, square-built, disciplined, and had spent the evening looking at her as though etiquette coaching might be an elaborate assassination method.
Lucian compared the documents.
“They’re different.”
Matteo came closer.
“How?”
Lucian placed them side by side.
The original stated:
CLIENT: MATTEO MORETTI.
Camille’s copy stated:
CLIENT SUBJECT TO BE EVALUATED: LUCIAN MORETTI.
Enzo reached for Camille’s version.
She didn’t hand it over.
His eyebrows rose.
“It’s mine.”
“It concerns this family.”
“It concerns my business.”
Lucian looked at Enzo.
“Let her keep it.”
That surprised both of them.
Camille opened the email again.
“Someone contacted me using Daniel Price’s identity.”
Lucian’s face had changed at the mention of Daniel.
The cold authority remained, but beneath it Camille saw something more complicated.
Grief.
“Who was he?” she asked.
“My chief of staff,” Lucian said.
Matteo added quietly, “And our godfather.”
Lucian glanced at him.
Matteo ignored the warning.
“He practically raised us after our father died.”
Camille looked at her phone.
“Then whoever sent these messages knew exactly which name would get through your office.”
“Yes.”
“And they wanted me here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
Lucian extended his hand.
“Phone.”
“No.”
Enzo looked offended on Lucian’s behalf.
Lucian almost smiled.
“Ms. Brooks.”
“My phone contains client information.”
“Someone breached your communications.”
“Possibly.”
“Definitely.”
“You don’t know that.”
“They impersonated a dead man.”
Camille considered that.
“Fair point.”
She unlocked the phone herself.
“You can look while I hold it.”
Enzo stared at her.
Matteo grinned.
“I really hope she stays.”
Lucian ignored him.
Camille scrolled through the emails.
The first had arrived twelve days earlier.
Dear Ms. Brooks,
Mr. Lucian Moretti wishes to retain your services for a private family matter involving his younger brother.
The language was professional.
The details were accurate.
The fee was generous without being absurd.
Camille’s office had verified the mansion address and Moretti Holdings before accepting.
Nothing had appeared suspicious.
Lucian read every message.
Then he stopped.
“Go back.”
Camille did.
“There.”
He pointed.
One message ended:
Some men confuse obedience with respect. Your job is to teach the difference.
Lucian stared at the sentence.
Matteo saw it too.
“That sounds like Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Exactly like him.”
Lucian looked toward Enzo.
“Who had access to his archived correspondence?”
“Several people.”
“Names.”
“I’ll get them.”
Lucian turned to Camille.
“You’re staying here tonight.”
She blinked.
“No, I’m not.”
“Someone wanted you inside this house.”
“And now I’m leaving it.”
“That could be what they expect.”
“I have an apartment.”
“You also have someone monitoring your email.”
“You don’t know that.”
Her phone chimed.
Everyone looked down.
Another message.
LEAVING NOW WOULD BE A MISTAKE.
Camille’s stomach tightened.
Matteo whispered, “Okay. That’s creepy.”
Lucian’s entire demeanor shifted.
“Enzo.”
“Already on it.”
Enzo left while speaking into an earpiece.
Lucian held out his hand again.
This time Camille gave him the phone.
He read the message twice.
Then his eyes lifted.
“You’re staying.”
Camille folded her arms.
“You really struggle with requests.”
His jaw tightened.
Then, with visible effort, he said, “Please.”
Matteo made a choking sound.
Camille stared at Lucian.
“Was that painful?”
“Extremely.”
“Good first lesson.”
Against all reason, a small smile tugged at her mouth.
And something equally unexpected happened.
Lucian smiled back.
Barely.
It vanished quickly enough that Camille wondered whether she had imagined it.
Then the alarms began.
A low electronic tone sounded somewhere in the mansion.
Lucian’s smile disappeared.
Enzo returned immediately.
“West gate sensor.”
“Breach?”
“Unknown.”
Lucian took Camille by the elbow.
“Come with me.”
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
“Then stop steering me.”
He released her.
“Please come with me.”
“Much better.”
Matteo laughed despite the tension.
They moved into a study behind the dining room.
Lucian locked the door.
Camille noticed the irony.
“You keep a panic room beside your dining room?”
“This isn’t a panic room.”
Matteo opened a cabinet revealing security monitors.
“It’s the room where Lucian calmly doesn’t panic.”
“I don’t panic.”
“That’s why I said calmly.”
Lucian ignored him.
Camera feeds covered the screens.
Driveway.
Gardens.
Kitchen entrance.
Garage.
West gate.
Nothing.
Then Camille noticed something.
“Go back.”
Lucian looked at her.
“The camera by the dining room.”
Matteo rewound the feed.
They watched Camille arrive earlier that evening.
Then Mrs. Alvarez.
Servers.
Enzo.
Matteo.
Lucian.
“Stop.”
Camille pointed.
A man in catering whites crossed behind a flower arrangement.
“What?”
“I know the catering company you hired.”
Lucian looked at her.
“How?”
“I checked them before coming. Professional habit.”
“And?”
“Their uniforms have black collars.”
The man on screen wore white.
Lucian leaned closer.
“Enzo.”
Enzo spoke into his radio.
Within seconds, guards searched the house.
No unidentified caterer was found.
But a service door near the kitchen was unlocked.
Lucian turned toward Camille.
“Do you recognize him?”
“No.”
Matteo enlarged the image.
The man’s face was partially turned away.
But something hung from his wrist.
A narrow silver chain.
Lucian froze.
Camille noticed.
“You know it.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
Lucian stared at the screen.
Matteo came closer.
His humor vanished.
“Daniel had one like that.”
Lucian said nothing.
Camille looked at him.
“Did Daniel die here?”
“No.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“Were you there?”
Lucian’s gaze hardened.
“Enough.”
“No.”
“Camille.”
“You hired me because someone wanted me to observe you. Now a man wearing something connected to your dead godfather walked through your house during my first lesson.”
She pointed at the screen.
“You can either keep treating me like an outsider or explain why somebody thinks I belong in this.”
Lucian turned away.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Finally he said, “Daniel and I argued the night before he died.”
“About?”
“Matteo.”
Matteo looked surprised.
“Me?”
Lucian nodded.
“Daniel believed I was becoming too controlling.”
Camille slowly exhaled.
The sentence in the email returned to her.
Some men confuse obedience with respect.
“What did he tell you?”
Lucian looked toward the dark window.
“He said I was turning into our father.”
Matteo went still.
Camille knew enough not to interrupt.
Lucian continued.
“Our father believed fear was efficient. Daniel believed fear eventually poisoned everything it protected.”
“And you?”
“I told him he was sentimental.”
His voice had gone quieter.
“He left angry. The next morning, his car went through a barrier on Lake Shore Drive.”
Camille watched him.
“You blame yourself.”
“No.”
It came too quickly.
She didn’t challenge him.
That was another rule of etiquette people misunderstood.
Silence could be more useful than interrogation.
Matteo sat down.
“Lucian never told me that.”
“There was nothing to tell.”
“There obviously was.”
The brothers stared at each other.
Camille suddenly understood why someone had chosen her.
An etiquette coach wasn’t merely someone who taught forks and introductions.
At her best, Camille observed human behavior.
She noticed who interrupted whom.
Who apologized.
Who touched.
Who flinched.
Who thanked servants when powerful people weren’t looking.
Someone had deliberately put an observer inside the Moretti house.
The question was why.
Enzo’s radio crackled.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“We found something.”
They followed him to the kitchen corridor.
A small package sat on a marble console.
Brown paper.
No postage.
Camille’s name was written across it.
Lucian stopped her from approaching.
“Don’t.”
Enzo checked it first.
Then opened the paper.
Inside was a silver spoon.
Mrs. Alvarez gasped.
It was the spoon she had dropped during Camille’s confrontation with Lucian.
Wrapped around the handle was a strip of paper.
Lucian unfolded it.
Camille read over his arm.
LESSON ONE: WATCH HOW HE TREATS THE PEOPLE WHO CANNOT SAY NO.
Lucian’s face darkened.
Matteo whispered, “Daniel used to say that.”
Camille looked at the spoon.
Something was engraved beneath the bowl.
Tiny letters.
D.P.
Lucian took a sharp breath.
“That was his.”
“How do you know?”
“I gave him the set.”
Enzo looked toward the corridor.
“Then someone has access to Daniel’s belongings.”
Lucian shook his head.
“No.”
Everyone turned to him.
“Daniel’s belongings are locked in my private archive.”
“Who has access?”
Lucian answered without hesitation.
“Only me.”
Then a sound came from upstairs.
A door closing.
Lucian looked toward the ceiling.
His private archive was on the second floor.
Enzo reached for his radio.
Lucian was already moving.
They climbed the stairs.
At the end of the hallway, a heavy walnut door stood open.
Lucian stopped.
He had locked it that morning.
May you like
Now light spilled through the gap.
Someone was inside.
