Chapter 4 - The Woman Daniel Was Protecting
Camille stared at herself on the monitor.
Except she had never recorded the video.
The woman on screen sat inside a café.
Camille recognized the coat she had worn the previous winter.
The timestamp showed 8:17 a.m.
Daniel Price had died at 9:04.
“What is this?” Lucian asked.
“I don’t know.”
The video continued.
Camille sat alone at a table, reading something on her tablet.
A man entered behind her.
Daniel.
She couldn’t see his face clearly at first.
Then he walked past her table.
He dropped something.
Camille on the recording bent down.
She picked it up.
A wallet.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Memory returned.
“I remember him.”
Lucian turned sharply.
“You met Daniel?”
“I didn’t know who he was.”
On screen, Camille handed Daniel the wallet.
They exchanged perhaps ten words.
Daniel smiled.
Camille smiled back.
Then he left.
“That was it,” she said. “A stranger dropped his wallet. I returned it.”
Lucian rewound the video.
Daniel had deliberately loosened the wallet from his coat.
“He wanted you to pick it up.”
“Why?”
Nobody knew.
A sound came from the rear office.
Lucian moved in front of Camille.
Enzo and two guards entered first.
“Nina?” Camille called.
No answer.
They found her locked inside the supply room.
Alive.
Terrified.
She threw her arms around Camille.
“A man came in,” Nina said. “I hid when I heard him.”
“Did you see his face?”
“No.”
“What did he take?”
“Nothing, I think.”
She looked at the computer.
“But he left that.”
Police were not called.
Camille objected.
Lucian insisted.
They argued.
Finally Camille said, “You don’t get to decide whether I call the police.”
Lucian stared at her.
“You’re right.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
“You’re right.”
Matteo, who had arrived separately, whispered to Enzo, “Write down the date.”
Lucian ignored him.
“If you want police involved, call them.”
Camille studied him.
He meant it.
She called.
Detectives arrived.
Statements were taken.
The computer was collected.
For the first time, Camille saw Lucian surrender control of a situation he could easily have dominated.
He hated every second.
But he did it.
That mattered.
At three in the morning, they returned to the mansion.
Camille refused the guest suite until Lucian pointed out that whoever had entered her office knew where she worked and presumably knew where she lived.
She accepted.
Not because he ordered her.
Because he asked.
The distinction mattered too.
She couldn’t sleep.
At four, she found Lucian in the kitchen making coffee.
“You cook?” she asked.
“This is coffee.”
“It’s a beginning.”
He handed her a cup.
“Please.”
Camille smiled.
“You’re progressing.”
“Don’t tell Matteo.”
She sat at the island.
Lucian remained standing.
Without the guards and tailored authority surrounding him, he seemed younger.
Tired.
“What happened to your father?” she asked.
His eyes hardened automatically.
Then softened.
“He died when I was twenty-four.”
“How?”
“Heart attack.”
“And you inherited everything?”
“Everything that mattered.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It was.”
He sat opposite her.
“My father believed love made people vulnerable. Daniel believed the opposite.”
“And you?”
“I stopped having opinions about it.”
“That’s an opinion.”
He almost smiled.
Camille drank her coffee.
“Why did Daniel choose me?”
“I don’t know.”
“He knew my name before he died.”
“Yes.”
“He deliberately crossed my path that morning.”
“Yes.”
“And hours later he crashed.”
Lucian’s hand tightened around his cup.
Camille watched.
“You don’t believe it was an accident anymore.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“What changed?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Daniel contacted you. Someone used his identity to bring you into my house. Someone stole his ledger the same night.”
Lucian leaned back.
“That isn’t coincidence.”
Camille agreed.
“But it still doesn’t explain why me.”
A voice came from the doorway.
“Maybe your mother does.”
They turned.
Matteo stood there holding Daniel’s photograph.
The one with Isabella Vieri.
He placed it on the island.
Camille looked at the woman.
Then Matteo placed another photograph beside it.
Camille’s breath caught.
It was her mother.
Younger.
Different hair.
But unmistakable.
Lucian stared.
“Where did you get that?”
“Daniel’s box.”
Camille picked up the picture.
Her mother stood outside a courthouse.
Beside her was Isabella Vieri.
On the back:
ISABELLA VIERI & ELAINE BROOKS — 2002.
Camille’s hands trembled.
“My mother never mentioned her.”
Lucian looked at Matteo.
“What else?”
“A newspaper clipping.”
Matteo handed it over.
The article concerned a financial investigation into several Chicago companies.
One was owned by Vittorio Moretti.
Elaine Brooks had been a junior legal researcher.
Isabella Vieri had been internal counsel.
Camille sat very still.
“My mother told me she worked in corporate administration.”
“She did,” Matteo said. “Apparently for Dad.”
Camille looked at Lucian.
“Did you know her?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I was sixteen.”
She believed him.
Matteo had found another item.
A cassette tape.
Lucian stared at it.
“Daniel kept everything.”
They found an old player in the archive.
The recording crackled.
Then a woman spoke.
Isabella.
“If anything happens to me, Vittorio will say I stole from him.”
Lucian closed his eyes.
The recording continued.
“I didn’t steal anything. I found accounts he didn’t want found.”
Another woman spoke.
Camille recognized her mother’s voice.
“Then we go to the authorities.”
“No. Not yet.”
“Isabella—”
“He has people there too.”
Camille covered her mouth.
Her mother sounded young.
Frightened.
Then Daniel’s voice entered.
“I can get you both out.”
The tape stopped.
Matteo turned it over.
Nothing.
Camille stared at the machine.
“My mother died five years ago.”
Lucian looked at her.
“How?”
“Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She never told me any of this.”
“Maybe she was protecting you.”
Camille met his eyes.
The irony landed between them.
“Protection through silence.”
Lucian looked away.
“Yes.”
They searched until sunrise.
At seven, Camille found a thin notebook wedged beneath the lining of Daniel’s box.
Most pages contained dates.
Initials.
Numbers.
The last page held an address.
Below it:
E.B. KEPT THE COPY.
Camille recognized the initials.
Elaine Brooks.
“My mother kept something.”
Lucian leaned over her shoulder.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Camille remembered.
After Elaine died, Camille had packed most of her belongings into storage.
One box remained unopened.
Her mother had labeled it:
CAMILLE — WHEN YOU ARE READY.
Camille had never been ready.
Until now.
They drove to her apartment.
Lucian waited while police checked the building.
The box was in the top of her closet.
Camille carried it to the kitchen table.
Inside were childhood photographs.
Letters.
A silk scarf.
Her first business card.
At the bottom sat a green file.
Camille opened it.
Bank records.
Corporate registrations.
Photocopies of checks.
And one notarized statement from Isabella Vieri.
Lucian read it.
His face went pale.
“What?”
He handed it to her.
The document alleged that Vittorio Moretti had used legitimate companies to hide millions in illegal funds.
But another name appeared repeatedly.
Someone who had supposedly helped Isabella expose the scheme.
Daniel Price.
Camille turned the page.
A handwritten note from her mother was attached.
Camille,
If you ever receive this, Daniel failed to keep his promise.
Trust what he left you.
But before you trust a Moretti, ask what happened on October 14.
Camille looked at Lucian.
“What happened October 14?”
He didn’t answer.
“Lucian.”
Matteo had gone white.
Camille looked at him.
“You know.”
Matteo whispered, “That was the night our mother disappeared.”
Camille’s pulse quickened.
“You told me Isabella disappeared fourteen years ago.”
Lucian said nothing.
“Was Isabella your mother?”
“No.”
His voice sounded strange.
“She was the last person who saw her.”
Camille stared at the documents.
Her mother had known.
Daniel had known.
And someone had spent fourteen years making sure Lucian and Matteo didn’t.
Then Camille’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph arrived.
It showed a woman standing outside the Moretti mansion.
The picture had been taken minutes earlier.
She was older now.
Silver threaded through dark hair.
But Camille recognized her from Daniel’s photograph.
Isabella Vieri was alive.
A second message appeared.
ASK LUCIAN WHY HE NEVER LOOKED FOR ME.
Then the mansion intercom sounded.
A woman’s voice came through.
“My name is Isabella Vieri.”
May you like
Lucian stopped breathing.
“I came to tell Matteo what his brother did.”
