Zeke’s POV

As I entered the office, my mind was still on Kamille. Why couldn't she understand my intentions? I sat in the leather-bound swivel chair, expecting comfort, but finding none.

"Excuse me, sir," Mr. Rogers said. I gave him a cold glance. His eyes flickered, but years of experience had toughened him; he didn't cower like others. Few could withstand my temper.

"We've received new intel on the lawyer's case," he began. My ears perked up, though I showed no emotion. He continued, "The investigation into the accident has yielded new evidence. The car was tampered with, meaning the accident was orchestrated."

"By whom?" I asked coldly.

"We have no leads," Mr. Rogers replied. "But whoever did it stood to gain significantly."

I closed my eyes, gathering my thoughts. Mr. Rogers took his leave. The revelation that the accident wasn't accidental was disturbing. Who would orchestrate such a plot, and why?

If the Manors were responsible, what did they hope to achieve? The lawyer's inability to read the will had left Ellen's father as acting chairman for years. Why silence him now?

As I pondered the motive, my phone pinged. A new email. What the fuck?! It contained photos of Christopher and Kamille, seemingly innocent moments.

Jealousy and anger surged. My protective instincts flared. I rang for Mr. Rogers.

"Any information on Christopher?" I asked when he arrived.

"None, sir," he replied, head bowed.

"Get everything you can on him," I snapped. "I want to know his intentions toward Kamille."

As Mr. Rogers left, unease gnawed at me. Christopher's sudden appearance raised many questions. Good thing he doesn't know I know Kamille.

"Hey, brother. What's got you so riled up?" Fletcher's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"We need to get him a woman—young, soft, and innocent—to soothe his savage spirit," Zane suggested, and they both laughed, settling into the plush cushions across from my desk.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, slightly relieved by their humor.

"Can't your friends visit for no reason?" Fletcher feigned hurt.

Zane chuckled, "Don't bother asking; he has no response." He was right.

"Any leads on the drug baron?" I asked.

They shook their heads. "Not yet, but we're watching," Zane replied.

"He's currently undercover in London," Fletcher added.

"I see," I said thoughtfully. If the drug baron remained unidentified, I had more on my plate than I thought. I also had Christopher to deal with. Why did he need a house near Kamille? Was he a threat, a romantic interest, or something else?

As if reading my mind, Fletcher asked, "How's Chris's house hunt going?"

"Yeah, how is it going?" Zane echoed.

"How do you know this Chris guy?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zane looked at me, sensing something was amiss. "We met during one of my travels. He was a helpful friend."

"Helpful" didn't describe the Chris I knew. I barely knew him, but he was already causing trouble. My gut told me there was more to him.

Fletcher, who had been checking his phone, said, "Aren't you planning on helping your ex-in-laws? The press is persecuting them."

Helping them was the last thing on my mind. I'd leaked most of the information about their embezzlement. They didn't deserve sympathy.

"No. They should pay for their crimes," I replied dismissively.

"Their crimes?" Zane raised an eyebrow. "You know no multimillion-dollar conglomerate is clean. Saying they should pay is absurd."

"Not to me," I said coldly. "What we do doesn't hurt anyone. We minimize the dirt."

"How about the casino?" Fletcher asked.

"That's different. We have the state police's backing," I said, looking at them both.

"Looks like brother isn't as dirty as we thought," Zane teased.

"Or maybe he's forgotten his lessons," Fletcher added.

"Or maybe we're talking to an imposter," Zane quipped, and they laughed.

I smiled, but my mind was on Kamille and the danger I feared she was in. For all I cared, she could be in danger without even realizing it.

The weight of the unknown pressed down on me. The need to protect Kamille intensified. I needed to see her, to clear things up. Her family's dark secrets loomed large; worse danger might be planned if they knew she was alive.

I texted her again, asking to see her. If she didn't respond positively, I'd go to her house.

I remembered the photograph of Reon, Torin, Tyris, and Royer she'd left at my place. I'd meant to return it. I made a mental note to take it next time I saw her. I couldn't let anyone see me with it; it would raise suspicions about my being the kids' father. I was already suspicious myself.