Chapter 3 - Violet Refused to Go Home
Julian did not sleep.
Camille suspected men like him did not sleep often anyway, but that night there was a difference.
At three in the morning, she found him sitting outside Isabella’s hospital room with Violet asleep across his lap.
His jacket was gone.
His sleeves were rolled.
The expensive suit had acquired cat hair, warehouse dust, and one smear of something probably best not identified.
Camille carried two coffees.
He looked at one.
“Poison?”
“Hospital coffee. Similar.”
She handed it to him.
“How’s Isabella?”
“Hypothermia was mild. No internal injuries. Ankle fracture.”
“And emotionally?”
He stared into the cup.
“Ask me in ten years.”
Camille sat beside him.
Her involvement should have ended hours earlier.
She knew that.
Violet was medically stable.
Isabella was safe.
Police investigators, lawyers, private security, and probably half the city’s unofficial information network now surrounded the case.
Camille was a veterinarian.
Not a detective.
Not Moretti family security.
Definitely not equipped for mafia politics.
Still, she remained.
Partly because Violet would not leave her.
Mostly because something did not make sense.
“Why Isabella?”
Julian looked over.
“Money.”
“You have more.”
“Influence.”
“You have more.”
His mouth almost curved.
“You’ve researched me.”
“I live in Chicago.”
“Same thing.”
Camille lowered her voice.
“Your uncle had access to your family. Why kidnap her instead of you?”
Julian looked through the glass.
“Uncle Renato built half our legitimate companies with my father. When Dad died, control passed to me.”
“He resented that?”
“He expected partnership.”
“And you refused.”
“I discovered he had been moving money through businesses I didn’t authorize.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-seven million.”
Camille whistled softly.
“That buys a lot of cat carriers.”
Julian looked at her.
“Bad joke?”
“Terrible.”
“Good.”
For the first time, he smiled.
It changed his face.
Not completely.
But enough.
Then Violet woke.
Her ears moved.
She looked down the corridor.
A nurse approached pushing a cart.
Violet stood.
Her tail puffed.
Camille immediately watched the cat’s pupils.
“What?”
Julian asked.
“She’s reacting again.”
“To the cart?”
“Maybe.”
The nurse stopped at Isabella’s room.
Violet growled.
Camille stood.
“Wait.”
The nurse turned.
“Yes?”
“What medication is that?”
“Nothing for the patient. New saline.”
Camille stared at the plastic bag.
Violet hissed.
Julian rose beside her.
The nurse’s face changed.
Barely.
A microsecond.
But enough.
She abandoned the cart.
And ran.
Julian moved faster than Camille expected.
He caught the woman before she reached the elevator.
Security arrived.
The saline bag was tested.
It contained something that should not have been there.
A powerful sedative.
Too powerful.
Enough to stop a fragile patient’s breathing.
Julian stared through the hospital-room glass.
“They tried again.”
Camille’s skin went cold.
Isabella knew something.
Something worth killing for.
When she woke later that morning, they asked her.
At first she insisted she knew nothing.
Then Violet climbed carefully onto the bed.
Isabella buried her fingers in the cat’s fur.
“I found records.”
Julian stood near the window.
“What records?”
“Renato’s companies.”
“I already knew about the money.”
“Not those.”
She looked at Camille.
Maybe because Camille was an outsider.
Maybe because outsiders sometimes felt safer.
“Women.”
Camille frowned.
“What women?”
“Missing women.”
Silence filled the room.
Isabella explained.
For six months, she had been quietly working with a nonprofit that helped women leave abusive homes. Several of their clients had disappeared after accepting temporary jobs through staffing agencies.
At first it looked unrelated.
Then Isabella found a company name repeatedly appearing on transportation reimbursements.
Caruso Logistics.
A shell company.
Controlled indirectly by Renato Moretti.
Julian went pale.
“What kind of transportation?”
“Hotels. Private residences. Clubs. Sometimes out of state.”
Camille understood before he said it.
“You think your uncle was moving people.”
Isabella nodded.
“I think he still is.”
Julian walked toward the window.
His entire body became unnaturally still.
Camille had seen aggressive animals freeze before striking.
The resemblance was uncomfortable.
Isabella knew it too.
“Julian.”
He did not answer.
“Julian, look at me.”
He turned.
“I need you calm.”
His laugh contained no humor.
“You were locked in a warehouse.”
“And if you start a war, everyone involved disappears.”
She was right.
Renato would destroy records.
Move witnesses.
Disappear.
Camille looked at Violet.
The cat was licking one paw.
Something metallic flashed against her collar.
Camille leaned closer.
“What is that?”
A tiny circular tag hung beside Violet’s normal ID tag.
Julian frowned.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Camille turned it over.
No name.
No address.
Just a tiny black dot.
Dante entered.
One look and he understood.
“Tracker.”
Julian’s face hardened.
“Someone tracked Violet.”
“No,” Camille said slowly.
Everyone looked at her.
“Someone was tracking where she went.”
Isabella’s eyes widened.
“She used to follow me.”
Camille nodded.
“Which means whoever planted this tag could learn Isabella’s routine without following Isabella.”
Dante removed it carefully.
“Smart.”
“Terrifying,” Camille corrected.
He examined the device.
“If we don’t disable it…”
Julian looked at him.
“They think Violet is still moving.”
A plan began forming in the room.
Dangerous.
Probably reckless.
But potentially useful.
They could use the tracker.
Feed Renato false information.
Make him believe Violet had been taken somewhere Isabella’s evidence might be hidden.
Draw his people into the open.
Camille crossed her arms.
“No.”
Julian looked at her.
“You don’t even know the plan.”
“I know the look.”
“What look?”
“The one rich dangerous men get before proposing something stupid.”
Isabella laughed despite herself.
Julian ignored her.
“This could help us find Renato.”
“And put Violet in danger.”
“She won’t be involved.”
“Good.”
“Neither will you.”
Camille blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re done.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“You don’t give me orders.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“No. You’re trying to regain control because yesterday scared you.”
Silence.
Dante stared very intently at the floor.
Julian stepped closer.
“You don’t know anything about my life.”
“I know you tried to sedate a terrified cat instead of listening to her.”
His expression sharpened.
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“It means your instinct is to control whatever frightens you.”
That landed.
Camille saw it.
So did Isabella.
Julian looked away first.
Violet jumped from the bed.
Walked between them.
Then sat directly on Camille’s shoes.
Isabella smiled.
“She picked a side.”
Julian stared at his cat.
“Traitor.”
Violet yawned.
May you like
And Camille realized the animal had just done what nobody else in Julian Moretti’s world dared to do.
Tell him no.
