Chapter 3 - The Enemy Who Had Been Invited Inside
Beatrice Hall had spent most of her life believing fear was something that happened to other people.
Camille could see that immediately.
People raised with power carried fear differently.
They treated it like an insult.
Beatrice kept touching the diamond bracelet around her wrist as if she expected wealth to protect her.
It no longer did.
Lucian closed the conference-room curtains.
Marco contacted hotel security.
Nico locked the door.
Then Camille sat across from the woman who had watched her career collapse eight years earlier.
“Start talking.”
Beatrice’s eyes flicked toward Lucian.
Camille noticed.
“No. Look at me.”
Slowly, Beatrice did.
“You helped destroy my career.”
Beatrice flinched.
“My mother did.”
“You watched.”
“I was twenty-two.”
“So was I, almost.”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You accepted credit for my work.”
“I know.”
“You knew the complaints were false.”
Beatrice looked down.
“I know.”
Camille felt old anger rise.
It would have been easy to unleash it.
Easy to demand an apology.
But somebody had entered the Moretti mansion with Camille’s photograph.
This was bigger than revenge.
“What does Adrian want?”
Beatrice swallowed.
“To destroy Lucian’s influence before the Bellini weekend.”
“Why?”
Lucian answered.
“Because the foundation vote is Saturday.”
Camille looked at him.
“What vote?”
Nico rubbed the back of his neck.
“We may have left out some details.”
Camille stared at him.
“You hired an etiquette coach for an international charity weekend and neglected to mention there was a vote important enough to motivate armed trespassers?”
Nico smiled weakly.
“When you phrase it like that…”
“Nico.”
“Right.”
Lucian moved toward the table.
“The Bellini Foundation controls a development network.”
“Meaning?”
“Shipping contracts. Infrastructure grants. International investment partnerships.”
“Legal ones?”
Lucian gave her a look.
“Yes.”
Camille lifted an eyebrow.
“Good. We’re making progress with clarification.”
Despite everything, Nico smiled.
Lucian continued.
“Adrian wants control of the coalition supporting those projects. Years ago, my father allowed him influence over several companies. After my father died, I discovered Adrian had been using those relationships to pressure people.”
“What kind of pressure?”
“Threats. Debts. Secrets.”
Camille’s face tightened.
“So you removed him.”
“I removed his access. Closed companies he controlled. Paid several obligations personally so he could no longer hold them over people.”
“And he disappeared?”
“For five years.”
Beatrice gave a bitter laugh.
“He didn’t disappear.”
Everyone looked at her.
“He built another network.”
“How do you know?” Marco asked.
“My mother joined it.”
Camille stared.
Evelyn Hall.
Of course.
Evelyn had always understood information as currency.
Beatrice continued.
“Adrian needed people who could enter rooms without appearing dangerous. Event planners. Consultants. assistants. Public relations firms.”
“People who hear private conversations,” Camille said.
“Yes.”
“And your mother?”
“She introduced him to everyone.”
Lucian’s eyes hardened.
“Why target Nico?”
“Because Nico is believable.”
Nico frowned.
“I’m offended.”
“You’ve been photographed dancing on a hotel fountain.”
“It was hot.”
Beatrice ignored him.
“If an article said Lucian insulted a diplomat, people would question it. If Nico did?”
“They’d believe it,” Camille said.
“Exactly.”
Lucian’s expression remained unreadable.
“And Camille?”
Beatrice hesitated.
“My mother recognized her name on the vendor list.”
Camille’s stomach tightened.
“She told Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Beatrice’s voice became quieter.
“Because she hates that you succeeded.”
For years, Camille imagined Evelyn Hall had forgotten her.
Apparently not.
“She kept track of me?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“I know.”
“Did she write the article?”
Beatrice shook her head.
“She provided information. Adrian’s media people wrote it.”
“Then who remembered the sentence?”
“My mother.”
Camille sat back.
There it was.
Eight years of distance erased by one cruel sentence.
Lucian looked at Camille.
He seemed to understand that this wound was different from fear.
Camille hated that he could see it.
She turned back to Beatrice.
“You said the guest-list leak wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I was told we were creating harmless scandals. Enough to make donors nervous. Enough to weaken Lucian before the vote.”
“And the attack on the mansion?”
“I knew nothing about it.”
Lucian spoke.
“Why should we believe you?”
Beatrice looked at him.
“Because my name is on that guest list too.”
Silence.
“My home address was posted twenty minutes ago,” she whispered. “My parents’ address. My brother’s school.”
For the first time, Camille felt something other than anger toward her.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But understanding.
Adrian Vale had used Beatrice exactly as Evelyn had used Camille.
Only Beatrice had believed she was a partner until the trap closed.
Marco received a message.
“Hotel security is locking the floor.”
Lucian shook his head.
“No.”
Marco understood immediately.
“Internal?”
“Possibly.”
Camille looked at Lucian.
“If Adrian has people in event planning and security, he could have people here.”
“Yes.”
“What do we do?”
Lucian glanced at Marco.
“We leave.”
The evacuation was quiet.
No dramatic running.
No shouting.
The Bellini Hotel had private service corridors designed for celebrities avoiding cameras.
Marco used them.
Camille walked between Lucian and Nico.
Beatrice followed.
Halfway toward the private elevator, Camille heard footsteps behind them.
Marco turned.
A hotel employee approached quickly.
“Mr. Moretti, the main elevator is secured.”
Lucian stopped.
Marco’s hand lifted subtly.
The employee kept coming.
Camille noticed something.
His name badge.
The Bellini Hotel used black lettering.
His was dark blue.
She had seen the uniforms all week.
“Stop,” Camille said.
Everybody froze.
The employee looked at her.
“Ma’am?”
“Your badge is wrong.”
His expression changed.
Marco moved instantly.
The man turned and ran.
He reached the stairwell before security intercepted him.
No shots.
No chaos.
Only a short struggle, then silence.
Nico stared at Camille.
“You noticed his badge?”
“Details are literally my profession.”
Lucian looked at her differently.
“You just prevented us from following him.”
Camille smoothed her dress.
“Maybe you should increase my rate.”
“You’re still fired.”
“Your loss.”
They took a different exit.
Twenty minutes later, two armored SUVs carried them toward a Moretti property outside downtown.
Beatrice sat beside Nico.
Camille sat opposite Lucian.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
Then Lucian said, “Why didn’t you tell me about Avery & Hall?”
Camille stared at him.
“You never asked.”
“I hired you.”
“To teach your brother table manners, not provide my autobiography.”
“You had history with someone running my event.”
“I didn’t know Beatrice was involved until I arrived.”
“You recognized her.”
“And handled it professionally.”
Lucian leaned forward.
“That history now matters.”
“It mattered before you knew about it.”
The words came sharper than Camille intended.
Lucian’s expression changed.
She continued more quietly.
“That is something powerful people forget.”
“What?”
“A wound isn’t created when you finally notice it.”
The SUV fell silent.
Lucian looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
Camille blinked.
Nico leaned between the seats.
“Can someone record that?”
Lucian looked at him.
“Sit down.”
Nico grinned.
The safe property was not what Camille expected.
Not a bunker.
A lake house.
Beautiful and isolated, surrounded by trees.
Security closed the gates behind them.
Inside, Marco assigned rooms.
Beatrice was placed upstairs under guard.
Nico disappeared toward the kitchen.
Camille walked onto the back terrace.
Night stretched across Lake Michigan.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
A moment later, the door opened.
Lucian stepped outside.
He had removed his tie.
Without it, he looked less like a feared businessman and more like a man who had not slept properly in years.
“You should rest,” he said.
“You should stop ordering everyone around.”
“I’m beginning to believe you enjoy saying that.”
“I do.”
He stood beside her.
For once, neither spoke.
Finally Camille said, “I hated her.”
“Beatrice?”
“Evelyn.”
Lucian waited.
“I spent years imagining I would become successful enough that what she did wouldn’t matter.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
His answer surprised her.
“Success doesn’t rewrite damage,” he said. “It just gives you better furniture while you remember it.”
Camille looked at him.
“That sounds suspiciously self-aware.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
She smiled.
A real smile.
Lucian’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
The air changed.
Camille felt it.
So did he.
He stepped slightly closer.
“You keep looking at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re arguing with yourself.”
“I usually win.”
“And tonight?”
His eyes met hers.
“Undecided.”
Before either moved, the terrace door opened.
Nico appeared.
He immediately stopped.
“Oh.”
Lucian’s expression turned murderous.
Nico looked delighted.
“I can come back.”
“What?”
“I was going to say Marco found something, but obviously civilization depends on timing.”
Camille cleared her throat.
“What did he find?”
Nico’s smile disappeared.
“Money transfers.”
They returned inside.
Marco had documents spread across the kitchen island.
“Payments from three shell companies,” he said. “All linked indirectly to Adrian.”
“To whom?” Lucian asked.
Marco turned the tablet.
A familiar name appeared.
Thomas Avery.
Camille stared.
The fourth person in that room eight years ago.
The man who watched Evelyn destroy her.
The man who had never defended her.
“He’s been working with Adrian?” she whispered.
“For at least six years.”
Beatrice entered from the hallway under escort.
When she saw the name, she stopped.
“My mother doesn’t know.”
Camille looked at her.
“How can you be sure?”
“Because Thomas isn’t working for Adrian.”
Beatrice’s face had gone white.
“He’s working against him.”
Marco frowned.
“What?”
Beatrice stepped closer.
“Thomas contacted me three months ago. He said Adrian’s network had become dangerous. He wanted evidence.”
Camille’s heart started pounding.
“Evidence of what?”
Beatrice looked at Lucian.
“That Adrian planned to use the Bellini weekend for more than scandals.”
Lucian’s voice lowered.
“What?”
“To destroy your entire organization.”
She turned toward Camille.
“And Thomas said there was only one person Adrian underestimated enough to expose him.”
Camille already knew.
“No.”
Beatrice nodded.
“You.”
The kitchen went silent.
Then Marco’s tablet chimed.
An encrypted email had arrived.
Sender: Thomas Avery.
Subject:
CAMILLE, IF YOU’RE READING THIS, I WAS TOO LATE.
Attached was a file.
May you like
And one sentence.
The leak is inside Lucian’s house, closer to him than Adrian ever was.
