Samuel Roth disappearing during an armed attack did not look innocent.
It looked even worse when security discovered that the emergency stairwell door on the twenty-eighth floor had been propped open.
Julian wanted Roth found immediately.
Camila wanted everyone to stop moving.
They argued in the center of the wrecked executive suite while police sirens approached from three blocks away.
“Marcus,” Julian said, “find Roth.”
Marcus reached for his radio.
Camila caught it.
“Wait.”
Julian stared at her.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“Five men just entered my office with guns.”
“Which is why you need to stop reacting emotionally.”
“I’m not emotional.”
Camila looked at the destroyed coffee table.
“You tried to charge an armed attacker with your bare hands.”
“He had you.”
“And?”
Julian stopped.
Camila’s voice softened.
“You would have made things harder.”
For some reason, that irritated him more.
“You’re welcome.”
She blinked.
“For what?”
“For attempting to help.”
“You ignored direct instructions.”
“You’re my secretary.”
Camila stared at him.
Marcus looked between them.
“Are we really doing this right now?”
Julian pointed at Camila.
“She yelled at me.”
“There were bullets.”
“She yelled.”
Camila folded her arms.
“Next time I’ll send an email.”
Marcus walked away.
“I hate both of you.”
Police arrived.
Statements were taken.
The armed men carried false identification.
The weapons were stolen.
One attacker had a burner phone containing a single contact.
No name.
No message history.
The number traced nowhere.
Samuel Roth contacted Julian twenty-three minutes after disappearing.
He claimed someone had dragged him into the emergency stairwell during the attack.
Julian didn’t believe him.
Camila wasn’t sure.
“That man lies professionally,” Julian said.
“So do you.”
“I’m much better at it.”
“That wasn’t the compliment you thought it was.”
They relocated that evening to Julian’s private residence overlooking the Hudson.
Marcus objected to Camila coming.
Julian overruled him.
Camila objected to coming.
Julian overruled her too.
“You don’t control my personal life,” she said as the armored SUV crossed downtown.
“You currently have no personal life.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You worked eighty-two hours last week.”
“That’s because you schedule meetings like you’re trying to punish calendars.”
Julian looked out the window.
“Stay tonight.”
The tone was different.
Camila heard it.
She looked at him.
“For security.”
“Obviously.”
“You have fourteen guards.”
“I trust you more.”
Camila went still.
Julian seemed to realize what he had said.
Neither spoke for the rest of the drive.
His residence occupied the top floors of a renovated industrial building near the river.
Dark wood.
Steel.
Glass.
The kind of place designed to look effortless while costing more than most apartment buildings.
Camila entered and automatically checked exits.
Julian noticed.
“You really can’t turn it off.”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
She thought about it.
“Sometimes.”
They spent three hours reviewing footage.
The attackers had entered using contractor credentials.
Thomas Bell’s access codes.
Marcus found Bell at his apartment.
Dead.
Officially, it looked like suicide.
Camila knew within thirty seconds it wasn’t.
“How?” Julian asked.
“The scene is too clean.”
“You haven’t seen it.”
“Marcus described it.”
“That’s enough?”
“Yes.”
Julian poured himself a drink.
Camila stood beside the windows, Manhattan glittering across the dark river.
“You knew people who did this kind of thing.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“Were you one of them?”
Camila turned.
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No.”
He nodded.
She appreciated that he believed her.
“Evan,” Julian said.
Her face tightened.
“Your partner.”
Camila stared at the city.
“Yes.”
“What happened after he died?”
“I quit.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She gave him an annoyed glance.
“You’re becoming better at that.”
“At what?”
“Knowing when I’m avoiding something.”
Julian smiled faintly.
“Occupational hazard.”
Camila remained silent long enough that he expected her not to answer.
Then she did.
“Evan and I had been partners for four years.”
“Romantic?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Camila looked at him.
“Why is that good?”
Julian took a drink.
“No reason.”
She almost rolled her eyes.
“Evan was married. Two children.”
Julian’s expression changed.
Camila continued.
“I was supposed to inspect the service corridor before he moved the witness.”
“You saw something.”
“I saw the elevator light.”
“The same kind of warning you noticed here.”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I thought I had thirty seconds.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
Her voice became quieter.
“There are mistakes that disappear because nobody remembers them. Then there are mistakes that have names.”
Julian said nothing.
“Evan’s wife never blamed me,” Camila continued. “That somehow made it worse.”
“So you became a secretary.”
“I wanted a job where the worst thing I could ruin was somebody’s dinner reservation.”
Julian looked at her.
“And then you applied to work for me.”
Camila finally laughed.
It surprised both of them.
“That was possibly a miscalculation.”
“It absolutely was.”
The laughter disappeared slowly.
Julian moved beside her.
“You didn’t fail today.”
Camila’s eyes remained on the lights across the river.
“I almost missed the fifth man.”
“You still stopped him.”
“Marcus stopped him.”
“Marcus was being thrown into a wall.”
“He’ll appreciate your description.”
Julian studied her reflection in the glass.
“I was wrong about you.”
Camila turned.
“That sentence must have been painful.”
“Extremely.”
“I appreciate the sacrifice.”
“I thought you avoided training because you were scared.”
“I was scared.”
Julian frowned.
“Of fighting?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Camila looked down at her hands.
“Of remembering how easy it is.”
Julian understood.
She wasn’t afraid she couldn’t fight.
She was afraid she could.
“When you moved today,” he said, “you didn’t hesitate.”
“That’s the problem.”
“You saved people.”
“That’s not always how it ends.”
Julian leaned against the window.
“You think refusing to use what you know protects you from becoming who you were.”
Camila’s eyes sharpened.
“Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“I’m excellent at it.”
“You thought I was helpless for eighteen months.”
“Recent improvement.”
She shook her head.
Then both their phones rang.
Marcus.
Julian answered.
“What?”
Marcus’s voice came through speaker.
“We found something on Bell’s home system.”
“What?”
“Payments.”
Camila stepped closer.
“From Roth?”
“No.”
Marcus hesitated.
“From Kade Holdings.”
Julian froze.
“That’s impossible.”
“Three transfers through a subsidiary.”
Julian’s eyes became cold.
“Who authorized them?”
“I’m tracing it.”
Camila asked, “Which subsidiary?”
“Northline Consulting.”
Julian turned toward her.
Camila knew the name.
Northline handled internal property acquisitions.
Only three people could authorize payments.
Julian.
His chief financial officer.
And Julian’s older cousin, Adrian Kade.
Adrian had helped build the legitimate side of Julian’s empire.
He had been Julian’s closest adviser since Julian was twenty-three.
He was also the man who had argued most aggressively against refusing Samuel Roth access to the waterfront contracts.
Julian ended the call.
For several seconds, he didn’t move.
Camila watched him process betrayal.
It was different from fear.
Fear made people fast.
Betrayal made them still.
“You trust Adrian,” she said.
“He’s family.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Julian looked at her.
“Yes.”
Camila nodded.
“Then don’t decide yet.”
“You think Marcus is wrong?”
“I think somebody wants you to believe something.”
“Bell received money from my company.”
“Which is convenient.”
Julian paced away.
“Adrian fought me on Roth.”
“Also convenient.”
“You’re defending him?”
“I’m defending evidence.”
Julian turned sharply.
“And if the evidence says Adrian betrayed me?”
“Then he betrayed you.”
Simple.
No comfort.
No manipulation.
That was one of the reasons Julian trusted her.
The next morning Adrian arrived without being called.
That alone was suspicious.
He entered Julian’s residence at 8:10 carrying coffee.
“Hell of a day yesterday.”
Julian watched him.
Camila sat at the dining table pretending to work.
Adrian noticed her.
“The secretary survived.”
Camila’s fingers stopped.
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
Adrian smiled.
“Bad phrasing.”
“How did you know she was involved?” Julian asked.
Silence.
Small.
But there.
Adrian recovered.
“Everybody knows by now.”
“No.”
Julian stepped closer.
“Nobody knows.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
Camila looked at his right hand.
Not his face.
His fingers moved slightly toward his jacket.
She stood.
“Don’t.”
Adrian looked at her.
“What?”
“Whatever you’re thinking.”
Julian’s voice became almost a whisper.
“Adrian.”
His cousin exhaled.
Then slowly raised both hands.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Julian’s face remained unreadable.
“Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Inside your jacket.”
Adrian hesitated.
Camila moved to Julian’s side.
Adrian smiled bitterly.
“Look at you. Taking orders from the secretary now.”
Julian glanced at Camila.
“No.”
Then back at Adrian.
“I’m learning.”
Adrian opened his jacket.
No gun.
Only a phone.
Julian relaxed half an inch.
Camila did not.
Because Adrian’s eyes flicked toward the kitchen door.
Someone was behind it.
Camila moved.
A suppressed shot struck the wall exactly where Julian’s head had been.
And this time, there was no question.
The attack had come from inside the family.