Chapter 2 - The Aftermath of Fire
By ten o'clock that evening, the Moretti estate was quiet again.
Camille’s luggage had been loaded into a sleek black sedan, and she had been escorted off the estate grounds by four of Marco's men. Her father had refused to ride in the same car with her, departing in his own limousine after assuring me that the Vance Group would bear all costs related to the cancelled venue contracts.
I walked down the quiet, dimly lit corridor of the east wing toward the estate's private medical clinic.
When I opened the door, the scent of antiseptic and lavender filled the room. Elena was sitting on the edge of a white examination bed, her left arm wrapped securely in thick white bandages. Beside her stood Dr. Reynolds, writing notes on a tablet.
Elena jumped when she saw me enter, her face draining of color as she tried to stand up. "Mr. Moretti... I'm so sorry for the mess in the dining room—"
"Sit down, Elena," I said softly, holding up a hand to stop her.
I walked over to the side of the bed and looked at Dr. Reynolds. "How severe are the burns?"
"Second-degree burns across her forearm and wrist, Gabriel," Dr. Reynolds answered gravely. "Fortunately, we treated it quickly. There will be minimal scarring if she keeps the dressings clean and takes her antibiotics."
I looked down at Elena. She was twenty-four years old, the daughter of my family’s head housekeeper who had served the Morettis for over thirty years. She was quiet, hardworking, and had always carried herself with modest grace.
"Elena," I said, my tone softer than anyone in my organization had heard in years. "You have nothing to apologize for. What happened tonight was entirely Camille's fault, and it will never happen again inside this house."
Elena looked down at her bandaged arm, tears glistening in her dark eyes. "She... she was always so cruel to us when you weren't looking, sir. We were all terrified of her."
My jaw clenched tightly. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because she told us you would fire anyone who complained about her," Elena whispered. "She said she was going to be the new mistress of the estate, and that her word was law."
A cold, dark fury bloomed in my chest. Camille hadn't just been arrogant; she had been systematically terrorizing the people who kept my home running, hiding her true nature behind sweet smiles whenever I entered the room.
"She is gone, Elena," I assured her. "She will never set foot on this property again. I’ve ordered Marco to issue a $100,000 transfer to your bank account tomorrow morning for your injury and distress. Take as much time as you need to heal."
Elena gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Mr. Moretti... $100,000? That's... that's too much! I can't accept that!"
"You can, and you will," I said firmly. "And if you ever need anything else, you come directly to me or Marco. Understood?"
Elena wiped a tear from her cheek and nodded slowly. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."
I stepped out of the clinic and found Marco waiting for me in the hallway, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
"Everything is settled with the Vance security detail, boss," Marco reported in a low voice. "Camille is back at her father's estate in Boston. But... we have a different problem."
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"What problem?" I asked, buttoning my jacket.
"Camille’s older brother, Julian Vance," Marco said, his eyes darkening. "He just landed at Logan Airport from London. And he's already threatening to leak stories to the press about how you publicly humiliated his sister."
