Chapter 3 - Blood on the Marble
The silence that followed the thud in the hallway felt like a vacuum, sucking all the air out of the private study.
Cameron gripped the heavy brass paperweight, her knuckles white, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Beneath her arm, little Leo stirred, letting out a soft, distressed murmur in his sleep. She tightened her grip, smoothing his dark curls with one trembling hand while keeping her eyes glued to the heavy oak door.
Bang.
A muffled crash echoed from the corridor, followed by the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. Then, a heavy boot heel pivoted against the exterior of the door.
Cameron held her breath.
The brass doorknob turned. Slowly. Deliberately.
With a surge of adrenaline, Cameron raised the heavy paperweight, preparing to bring it down with everything she had. The door swung open, revealing the tall, broad silhouette of a man framed by the dim hallway lights.
"Drop it," a cold voice commanded.
It wasn't an intruder.
It was Matteo.
His suit jacket was torn at the shoulder, a thin line of blood trickled down from a cut above his left eyebrow, and his right hand gripped his smoking firearm. Behind him, sprawled unconscious across the white marble floor of the foyer, was a massive man dressed in tactical black gear, a customized silencer pistol rolling away from his limp fingers.
Matteo scanned the room in a single sweep, his chest rising and falling heavily. His eyes locked onto Cameron, assessing whether she and the boy were safe before letting out a sharp breath.
"Get up," Matteo ordered, stepping fully into the study and kicking the door shut behind him.
"Who was that?" Cameron whispered, her voice shaking as she lowered the paperweight.
"An unwelcome guest," Matteo replied grimly, wiping a streak of blood from his forehead with the back of his wrist. He walked over to the desk, pulled open a hidden floor safe beneath the Persian rug, and retrieved a second, heavier weapon—a submachine tactical case—alongside a stack of encrypted flash drives. "They didn't come to rob the penthouse. They came for you, Cameron. Or rather, they came to confirm if the ghost in my study was breathing."
"This is insane," Cameron said, her voice rising in panic as she gently shifted Leo so she could stand up, wincing as her bruised knee protested violently. "I’m just a maid! I started this job three hours ago! I clean apartments for a living because I couldn't afford rent in Queens! I don't know anything about corporate assassinations, hidden twins, or pharmaceutical empires!"
Matteo stopped packing the case, his dark eyes fixing on her with an intensity that made the room feel smaller.
"You think it's a coincidence that out of all the cleaning agencies in New York, yours was bought out yesterday morning by a shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands?" Matteo asked, his voice deadpan. "You think it's an accident that you were assigned to my penthouse on the exact day my security protocols were scheduled for an annual update?"
Cameron froze. The color drained completely from her face.
Yesterday morning. The sudden, unannounced management change at her cleaning service. The supervisor who had practically shoved her into the cab and forced her to take the downtown route straight to the Upper East Side.
"They... they set me up," Cameron whispered, horror dawning in her gray-blue eyes.
"They didn't just set you up," Matteo said, slamming the metal case shut with a resounding click. "They delivered you right into my lion's den to see if I would protect you—or if I would destroy you first."
Before Matteo could elaborate, the penthouse lights flickered violently once, twice, and then cut out completely.
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The entire luxury apartment plunged into absolute darkness, save for the eerie, blood-red glow of the emergency exit signs and the flashing neon lights of the Manhattan skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
And then, the building-wide security alarm began to wail.
