Chapter 3 - Taming the Storm
The first week in the DeLuca penthouse was a revelation.
To the outside world, this was a fortress of crime.
But inside, it was a mausoleum of grief.
Every photograph of Leo's mother, Isabella, had been removed.
The staff spoke in whispers.
No one laughed.
It was a house holding its breath.
But Camryn refused to hold hers.
On Tuesday morning, Leo had a meltdown in the grand dining room.
The private chef had served him oatmeal, and the texture set him off.
He screamed, sweeping the bowl off the table. It shattered, splattering the walls.
The guards in the room tensed, ready to intervene.
But Camryn waved them off.
She didn't yell.
She didn't try to reason with a raging toddler.
She simply sat down on the marble floor, right in the middle of the mess.
She took a spoon, dipped it into a puddle of oatmeal on the floor, and painted a smiley face on the leg of the million-dollar mahogany dining table.
Leo stopped screaming.
He stared at her, chest heaving.
Camryn dipped her finger in the oatmeal and booped her own nose.
"Messy," she said softly.
Leo sniffled.
He slowly climbed down from his booster seat.
He walked over to her, his little fists unclenching.
He dipped his own finger in the mess, and hesitated.
Camryn leaned forward, offering her face.
Leo gently smeared oatmeal across her cheek.
And then, for the first time in two years, Leo giggled.
It was a small, broken sound, but it echoed through the massive room like a symphony.
Up on the second-floor balcony, hidden in the shadows, Matteo watched.
He clutched the railing so hard his knuckles turned white.
His son was laughing.
This maid... this girl with messy hair and no pedigree... had done in five days what the best doctors in Manhattan couldn't do in two years.
He watched as Camryn scooped Leo up, both of them covered in food, and carried him to the kitchen to wash up.
Dante stepped out of the shadows behind Matteo.
"Boss," Dante whispered.
Matteo didn't take his eyes off the hallway where Camryn had disappeared.
"Speak," Matteo ordered.
"We found the cop with the scarred eyebrow," Dante reported. "Officer Miller. He retired abruptly a year ago. Bought a yacht in Miami."
Matteo’s jaw tightened. "Bring him to me."
"We can't," Dante said grimly. "He was found dead yesterday. Shot twice in the back of the head. Someone is tying up loose ends."
Matteo finally turned around.
"Someone knows the girl is here," Matteo realized.
"Word leaked that you canceled the cleaning contract and kept a maid," Dante explained. "The mole inside our syndicate knows she's a witness."
Matteo’s blood ran cold.
He looked toward the west wing.
They weren't just coming for him anymore.
They were coming for Camryn.
"Double the guard," Matteo growled. "No one enters this penthouse without my blood authorization. If anyone looks at her wrong, you put a bullet in their skull."
Dante nodded and vanished.
Matteo stood alone in the dark, realizing a terrifying truth.
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He wasn't just protecting the only witness to his wife's murder.
He was protecting the woman who had just brought his son back to life.
