Chapter 2 - The Florence MirageThe villa in Tuscany was breathtaking. It was a fifteenth-century estate surrounded by rolling hills of silver olive trees and endless rows of grapevines. But to me, it was a gilded cage.
For seven days, I played the part. I held Camille’s hand in front of the local photographers. I smiled for the social media updates that her public relations team posted hourly. The world saw a handsome, newly married billionaire couple enjoying the fruits of their empire.
But behind closed doors, we lived in a frozen silence. I slept on the velvet sofa in the library, staring at the ancient frescoed ceiling, my mind constantly drifting back to the little girl who had held my finger with so much trust.
Bella.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her little face. I saw her auburn curls. I saw the way she had handed me her stuffed elephant like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, I saw Naomi’s tired, beautiful eyes.
On the eighth night, Camille was at a private dinner with a group of Italian distributors. I stayed behind, claiming a migraine. The moment her town car cleared the estate gates, I pulled out my phone.
I dialed the number I had never deleted.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. I was about to hang up when the line connected. The quiet, ambient sound of a television playing a children's cartoon came through the speaker.
"Elliot?" Naomi’s voice was a whisper, as if she were trying not to wake someone.
"Naomi," I breathed, my chest tightening so hard it physical hurt. "I'm in Italy. I... I got your message."
There was a long silence on the other end. I could hear her shallow breathing. "You shouldn't have called, Elliot. Your wife... she looked like the kind of woman who doesn't like to share."
"Camille is not my wife," I said fiercely, the truth tearing out of me. "She is a business partner in a marriage contract. Naomi, I swear to God, I didn't know about my mother. I didn't know about the threat. If I had known—"
"If you had known, what?" Naomi interrupted, her voice cracking with a sudden, raw emotion. "Would you have broken your family’s heart? Would you have walked away from the merger? No, Elliot. You wouldn't have. You were always too afraid of losing your seat at the table. You let me leave three years ago because it was easy. Don't try to play the hero now."
"I was a coward then," I admitted, my eyes burning with tears. "I was terrified of my father, of the legacy, of everything. But seeing Bella... holding her hand... it changed something in me, Naomi. She has my eyes. She has my stubborn crease."
A soft sob escaped Naomi's throat. "She does. She looks so much like you it breaks my heart every single day, Elliot. But she doesn't need a billionaire father who only shows up when it's convenient. She needs safety. And your mother made it clear that as long as I am near you, Bella is in danger."
"I will protect you," I promised, standing up and pacing across the library. "I am leaving Florence tomorrow. I am canceling the honeymoon."
"No, Elliot, don't—"
Before Naomi could finish, the library door clicked open.
May you like
Camille stood in the doorway, her silk evening gown shimmering in the moonlight, her phone raised in her hand. She was recording me.
"You're right, Naomi," Camille said, stepping into the room with a cold, triumphant smile. "He shouldn't have called. And now, thanks to this recording of him admitting to violating our prenuptial agreement regarding marital fidelity and estate protection, I have everything I need to ruin both of you."
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