Chapter 3 - EIGHT-TEN
At 7:42 that evening, Blackwood Manor looked normal.
That was the most dangerous part.
The dining room glowed with candlelight. A fire crackled in the marble fireplace. Staff moved through the halls carrying trays, pretending they did not feel the tension pressing against the walls.
Camille entered at 7:50 in a black silk dress, her blonde hair swept over one shoulder.
She kissed Matteo lightly.
“You look tired,” she said.
“So do you.”
“Wedding planning.”
“Of course.”
Rafael arrived five minutes later, smiling broadly as he walked in from the west wing. He wore a dark suit, no tie, and the confident expression of a man who had spent his entire life believing blood made him untouchable.
“Brother,” Rafael said, embracing Matteo. “You scared us. You never come back early.”
“Maybe I should do it more often.”
Rafael’s smile faltered, then recovered.
At the far end of the dining room, Tessa stood near a display cabinet, dressed as a server. No one questioned her presence. Matteo had enough staff that unfamiliar faces rarely drew attention.
But she was watching everything.
So was Matteo.
Camille’s hands were steady when she poured wine.
Rafael’s were not.
Not by much.
But Matteo had known him since they were boys, since Rafael had stood beside him at Sofia’s funeral, since they had sworn vengeance against the men they believed responsible for her death.
Rafael always tapped his thumb against his ring when he lied.
Tonight, he could not stop.
At 8:03, Matteo lifted his glass.
“To family,” he said.
Camille smiled.
Rafael did too.
“To family,” they replied.
At 8:05, Matteo’s phone buzzed beneath the table.
TESSA: DEVICE CONFIRMED. TIMER ACTIVE. BOMB SQUAD IN POSITION. DO NOT APPROACH VEHICLE.
Matteo placed his phone face-down.
Camille studied him.
“Bad news?”
“Business.”
“At dinner?”
“Business doesn’t care about dinner.”
At 8:08, Rafael glanced toward the driveway.
At 8:09, Camille’s breathing changed.
It was subtle. A slight catch in her chest.
Then, at exactly 8:10, the lights flickered.
The explosion tore through the garage with a sound so violent that the windows shook in their frames.
Guests screamed.
The dining room chandelier swung overhead.
Somewhere outside, fire alarms began to howl.
Camille gasped and covered her mouth.
Rafael stood so quickly that his chair crashed backward.
Matteo did not move.
He watched them.
Camille was convincing.
Terrified. Shocked. Pale.
But Rafael’s eyes went immediately to Matteo.
Not to the fire.
Not to the shattered window.
To Matteo.
Checking whether he was alive.
That was all Matteo needed.
“Everyone remain inside,” he said calmly.
Rafael stared at him. “The garage—”
“I know.”
“Your car was in there.”
“I know.”
Camille lowered her hands. “Matteo, you could have been—”
“Dead?”
The word landed heavily between them.
Camille’s eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t mean what?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Tessa entered through the dining room doors, no longer pretending to be staff.
“Police and fire personnel are securing the perimeter,” she announced. “No one leaves the house.”
Rafael turned sharply. “Why are police here?”
“Because someone tried to murder Matteo Serrano,” Tessa said.
A silence spread through the room.
Camille’s face lost all color.
Matteo stood.
“Rafael,” he said, “come with me.”
His cousin’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because I asked.”
They entered Matteo’s office.
The door closed behind them.
For a long moment, neither man spoke.
Then Rafael gave a short, bitter laugh.
“You think I did this.”
“I think you know why the bomb was set for eight-ten.”
Rafael stared at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your security code disabled the cameras.”
“Someone could have copied it.”
“Camille’s office reassigned the guards.”
“She has access to schedules.”
“Lila heard you.”
That changed everything.
Rafael’s expression went still.
“Lila?”
“The housekeeper’s daughter.”
“She saw us?”
“She heard enough.”
Rafael looked toward the office door.
“She’s four.”
“Yes.”
“And you believe a four-year-old over me?”
“I believe evidence over everyone.”
Rafael’s face darkened.
“You always did think you were smarter than the rest of us.”
“No,” Matteo said. “I thought you were loyal.”
Rafael stepped closer.
“You want the truth? Fine. Sofia’s death destroyed you. You became colder. More suspicious. You let grief turn you into a king who trusted no one.”
“Did you kill her?”
Rafael’s eyes flashed.
“No.”
“Did Camille?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Rafael’s jaw clenched.
“I don’t know.”
Matteo leaned forward.
“Wrong answer.”
Rafael looked toward the window where orange light flickered across the night.
“You want to know why I helped Camille?” he asked quietly. “Because you were going to marry her and hand her half your empire. You were getting soft.”
“So you decided to kill me?”
“I decided to stop you before you destroyed everything your father built.”
“My father built freight companies.”
“Your father built fear,” Rafael snapped. “And you inherited it.”
Matteo’s voice dropped. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
Rafael’s eyes shifted.
That was when Matteo knew.
Not everything.
But enough.
“You didn’t plan this alone,” Matteo said.
Rafael’s silence became an answer.
A knock came at the door.
Tessa entered.
“Camille is gone.”
Matteo turned.
“What?”
“She slipped out through the conservatory during the evacuation.”
Rafael smiled faintly.
Then Matteo saw it.
The confidence.
The calculation.
Rafael had wanted Camille to escape.
Outside, sirens screamed beyond the gate.
And somewhere in Detroit, Camille Dorian was running with information that could destroy Matteo’s entire organization.
But before Matteo could give an order, Tessa’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“What is it?” Matteo demanded.
Tessa looked at him.
“The safe house is under attack.”
May you like
Elena and Lila were inside.
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