Zeke’s POV

I sat in my study, reviewing recent business developments. I discovered a one-billion-pound investment in Manor's Company by an anonymous investor.

“Who would do that with their brain still intact?” I muttered.

But there was an ulterior motive. I sighed. The business world was becoming increasingly risky, and I wouldn't let Kamille get caught in the crossfire.

I checked my phone. Morning had passed, and I still hadn’t heard from Kamille regarding my request to meet. I called her.

After a few rings, she answered. “Hello?” Her voice was soft, cautious.

“Kamille, it’s Zeke,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I haven’t heard from you. I wanted to check if you’re okay.”

There was a pause. “I’m fine,” she replied. “Just trying to process everything.”

“I understand,” I said, concerned. “I wanted to talk about your safety. I want to provide security for you, to ensure you’re protected at all times. If you agree, I can assign men to follow you.”

She sighed, frustrated. “Zeke, I don’t want to draw attention to myself. I appreciate the concern, but I can’t have bodyguards. It will only make things worse.”

I clenched my jaw. “I just want you to be safe, Kamille. After everything that’s happened…”

“I know,” she interrupted gently. “But I can’t live like that. I need to maintain appearances.”

I took a deep breath. “Alright,” I conceded. “But if anything changes, promise me you’ll let me know.”

“Of course,” she said. She hesitated. “What about the lawyer? Have you heard anything?”

“When I have concrete information, I’ll contact you,” I assured her.

“Okay,” she said, her voice tired. “Thank you, Zeke.”

We hung up. Her refusal of protection left me uneasy, but I respected her wishes—for now.

My attention returned to Manor's Company details on my screen. They were the only ones who would benefit from the lawyer's death.

I called Mr. Rogers for an update on the body and the lawyer. He answered immediately. “Mr. Reid,” he said.

“Rogers, what’s the status on the body and the lawyer?” I asked.

“The body wasn’t the lawyer’s, and the morgue report indicates the body was already dead before being brought to the room,” Rogers replied.

I pondered their motive. Leaving a dead body suggested they knew Kamille was alive and wanted to ensure she remained “in the grave.”

“Did the police understand everything?” I asked.

“They require a written statement from you,” Rogers replied. “Standard procedure.”

I nodded. “I’ll give a statement, but Kamille should not be involved. She doesn’t need more stress.”

“Understood,” Rogers said. “I’ll ensure she’s not implicated.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there soon,” I said, and hung up.

I went to the police station. The officers were professional, but the process was draining. I explained everything, omitting Kamille’s name.

Leaving the station, I felt renewed purpose. I had to move forward, for Kamille, our children, and myself. I couldn’t let the past dictate our future.

I showered to clear my mind. The warm water flowed over me, and my thoughts drifted back to Kamille. I missed her terribly. Memories of our time together, before everything went wrong, flooded my mind.

If only she would agree to my request, I thought. I would move her and the kids into one of my penthouses, with tight security. But she was so stubborn, so fiercely independent—qualities I both admired and found frustrating.

After my shower, I prepared for bed, but sleep eluded me. My mind kept returning to Kamille, to the life we could have had. I dreamed of holding her again, seeing her smile, hearing her laugh.

I stared at the ceiling, imagining Kamille across from me. I missed her terribly, but I couldn’t force her to be with me. All I could do was keep trying, keep fighting for her, hoping she would one day see how much I cared.

After some thought, I called her again.

“Hello,” Her voice was calming.

“Kamille, how are you?” I asked hoarsely.

“Zeke, for the millionth time, I’m fine,” she replied.

“Okay, I just wanted to check on you,” I said. I wanted to say more, but the words failed me.

“What about the lawyer?” she asked. “Any information?”

“The body was already dead before being placed in the room.”

“Oh my goodness,” she gasped. “How about the lawyer?”

“We’re still tracking him, but it’s likely the Manors have him,” I replied.

“Okay,” she said calmly.

“You must be tired.”

She agreed. I wished her goodnight, and we hung up. I was still unsatisfied.

Feeling lost without her voice, I texted her:

Dear Kamille,

Sorry to disturb you again,

I just want you to know that I miss you so much and your forgiveness means the world to me.

Thank you.

Yours, Zeke.

I would see her and the children, and ensure their protection.