Kamille's POV

I stepped out of the car, glancing around for the lawyer. The park was quiet, the surrounding buildings casting long shadows in the fading afternoon light. Unease settled in my stomach as I scanned the area.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Zeke asked, his brow furrowed with concern as he joined me.

"Yes, this is the address the lawyer gave me," I replied, my voice uncertain. "The mail was sent to my house, as he said it would be."

We waited silently, the minutes stretching into an eternity. I checked my phone, hoping for a sign, but found nothing.

Then, my phone buzzed. A new message:

Your mail was intercepted. This is the real venue: 1457 Lexington Avenue, Lusborg.

I showed the message to Zeke, my hands trembling. "They intercepted the mail. This is the real address."

Zeke's expression darkened as he read it. "Let's go. We need to get to Lexington Avenue."

We hurried back to the car, my mind racing. Who had intercepted my mail? Why were they sending me to a different location? Was this another of the Manor's dirty activities?

The drive to Lexington Avenue was tense. Zeke's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white.

"Do you think this could be a trap?" I asked, voicing my fear.

"It's possible," Zeke admitted, his eyes on the road. "But we can't ignore it. We need to find out what's going on."

We arrived at 1457 Lexington Avenue, a sleek, modern building that stood out among the older structures. A chill ran down my spine. Something felt wrong.

A security guard directed us to the elevator. "Third floor, room 308," he said.

We rode in silence, the tension palpable. As we stepped out on the third floor, I could hear my heart pounding. Room 308 was at the end of the dimly lit hallway.

My mind raced. Then we reached the room. A sense of dread washed over me, intensifying as we knocked. My heart pounded.

Then I saw him. A man lay in a pool of blood just behind the door. I screamed, "No!"

Zeke quickly covered my eyes, pulling me close. "Kamille, don't look," he said softly. I buried my face in his shirt, sobbing uncontrollably. The image of the lifeless man was burned into my mind.

"This cannot be the end," I thought desperately. "Reymond Manor and Ellen will pay for this."

Zeke held me, whispering comfort, but the tears wouldn't stop. I felt helpless, lost. Zeke, however, stared at the dead man. "That is not the lawyer."

"What do you mean?" I asked, sobbing.

"The lawyer likely knew he'd be followed and sent a proxy," Zeke replied.

"But why?" I sobbed again.

My sobs subsided. I pulled away slightly, wiping my tears. "How did they know about this?" I asked, my voice shaky but determined.

Zeke guided me back to the car, his arm around my shoulders. As he drove, he explained, "The lawyer is under their watch. They likely tapped his phone or intercepted his messages."

I nodded. It made sense, but it also meant our enemies were more cunning than I realized. "What do we do now?" I asked, feeling renewed urgency.

He glanced at me, concern in his eyes. "I'll help you, Kamille. But you have to let me in. You have to trust me."

I hesitated, the weight of our past heavy between us. But I needed his help. "Okay," I said softly.

"I'll message Rogers to handle this and file a report," Zeke said calmly.

"Thank you," I mumbled. He texted, then started the car.

We drove in silence. Reaching my apartment, I felt drained. As I opened the car door, I paused. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to keep your kids away. I just hated you."

He softened. "I understand," he replied gently. "But do you still hate me?"

I looked down. "I don't know," I admitted. "But I know we need to work together."

He nodded. "We'll get through this, Kamille. I promise."

I stepped out. He watched me enter before driving away.

Later, I replayed our conversation. His revelations stirred old wounds, but also brought relief. My phone buzzed—a message from Zeke: "I meant what I said, Kamille. I'm here for you and the kids, whenever you're ready."

I sighed, replying, "Thanks, Zeke. I just need some time."

My phone buzzed again. Another message: "Can we meet today? Just to talk." I sighed, setting my phone down.