THE WOMAN WHO KNEW

Camille called two days later.

I ignored the first attempt. After the second, she sent a message saying she needed to talk about Evelyn.

I showed Nico the screen before replying.

He stared at her name.

"You don't owe that woman anything."

"I know. But I want to hear what she has to say. With Rafael nearby and you knowing everything."

He agreed without liking it. I could see the effort.

We met Camille in a private room at a hotel. Rafael remained near the door. I sat opposite her with my phone on the table and explained that I wouldn't promise confidentiality or help conceal anything she'd done.

She removed her sunglasses. For the first time, she looked as though she'd slept as badly as I had.

"Matteo wants me to say Nico hit me first."

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"Why are you telling me?"

She gripped the sunglasses between her hands.

"Because he's already saying the medical decisions were mine. That I insisted on the drugs to keep Nico calm. I have messages proving that isn't what happened."

"Proving you weren't involved, or proving you weren't making the decisions alone?"

Her face hardened. Then the hardness gave way.

"That I wasn't making them alone."

I waited.

She admitted she'd approved restrictions on visitors and received reports Nico never saw. She'd told Rafael that Nico didn't want to meet him. She'd alerted Matteo when I questioned the records. She knew about instructions to keep Nico drowsy before certain meetings, although she claimed not to know exactly what he was given.

"And the slap?" I asked.

Camille looked toward the window.

"I lost control."

"You thought he couldn't stop you."

She turned back, outraged. I didn't look away.

The silence afterward was the first answer that felt complete.

"I was used to deciding," she said finally. "He started saying no. No to the party. No to the wedding the way my father wanted it. No to me. I thought..."

She stopped and shook her head.

"There's no way to make it sound better."

"Then don't try."

I asked for the facts about Evelyn.

Camille knew a friend Evelyn had been corresponding with. She'd maintained contact because Matteo wanted to know whether his daughter was considering a return. The friend had grown suspicious and stopped answering, but Camille still had an email address and an old message containing details that could be verified.

She gave the information to Rafael and agreed to speak to Patrick. No one promised she would be spared the consequences of her actions.

As I stood, she asked, "Is he better?"

I thought of Friday's kiss and refused to surrender that memory to this room.

"Someone's listening to him."

Nico was waiting near the kitchen when I returned. I told him everything, including the parts I'd have preferred not to repeat.

He listened without interruption. He moved only when I mentioned the meetings before which they'd wanted him drowsy.

"I signed documents on those days."

"Patrick will check."

"I'm not only worried about what I lost. I'm worried about what I let happen."

Guilt had a particular way of settling on his face. I recognized it now.

I sat beside him.

"You can find out and answer for what you actually did. You don't have to accept responsibility for everything they did while keeping things from you."

He looked at the wall, breathing through his mouth.

"My life won't become simple once my father's out of it. You understand that?"

"Enough to be frightened."

His eyes returned to me.

I'd promised myself I wouldn't appear brave by leaving things unsaid.

"I like being here. I like you. I also have a brother who depends on me. I can't treat danger as proof that I care. If there's a real threat, I need to know. I need to decide what to do about it."

Nico rested his elbows on the arms of his chair.

"I want to tell you I can keep all of it away from you both."

"Tell me what you can actually do."

He explained Rafael's work, changes to access, reviews of old contacts, and the steps Patrick was taking. He didn't promise invulnerability. He acknowledged the questions that still had no answers.

By the end, I knew more and was still afraid. I trusted him more, too.

"Do you still want to have dinner next week?" he asked.

I took his hand.

"Yes. You owe me an entire dessert."

That evening, Rafael confirmed Evelyn's friend had answered. Identities would need to be verified before a conversation could be arranged. Nico supplied names, dates, and a childhood memory that couldn't be found in public photographs.

I was at the apartment when the call finally came the following afternoon.

He let the phone vibrate once more than necessary. His fingers seemed too large for the button.

I sat nearby.

"Would you like me to leave?"

He caught my hand.

Answered.

There was a faint rustle, a breath, and then a woman's voice.

"Nico? It's me."

He closed his eyes. His hand tightened around mine until it hurt.

"Eve," he managed. "I'm here."