Chapter 4 - THE TRAP CLOSES
Camilla pushed her chair back, the wooden legs scraping harshly against the parquet floor.
She lunged toward the private exit leading to the kitchen corridor.
She didn't make it two steps.
Leo didn't even draw a weapon; he simply stepped into her path, his broad frame blocking the doorway entirely. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her with cold indifference.
"Going somewhere, Miss Croft?" Leo asked.
Camilla spun around, her eyes wide with unadulterated panic, looking back at Victor who remained standing behind his chair, calm and motionless as a statue carved from granite.
"Victor, please!" she cried out, her voice cracking into a desperate plea as she rushed back to the table, grabbing the edge of the linen cloth. "You can't lock me away! My father—the Sinclair syndicate—they'll tear this city apart if I don't report in by midnight!"
"Let them try," Victor said coldly. "The Sinclair family has already had their main distribution hub in the North End raided by federal marshals two hours ago. Thanks to the encrypted backups Nora secured from your laptop yesterday morning."
Nora blinked in astonishment.
She had spent the last three days downloading routine corporate files from Camilla’s shared cloud folder at Victor’s direct instruction, unaware that she was pulling classified financial leaks directly from the Sinclair communications network.
"You... you used me as bait?" Nora whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she looked up at her boss.
Victor turned his head, his dark eyes softening by a fraction as they met Nora’s shocked gaze.
"I used you because you were the only person in this building who couldn't be bought, Nora," Victor said, his tone turning remarkably gentle compared to the ice he had reserved for Camilla. "And she made the mistake of touching you."
Camilla let out a bitter, hysterical laugh, tears of rage springing to her eyes as she realized the depth of the trap.
"You care about a secretary?" she mocked, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at Nora’s wine-stained shirt. "A common office worker? You're a Moretti! You don't marry help! You don't bleed for hired hands!"
Victor walked slowly around the table.
He didn't look at Camilla.
He stopped beside Nora’s chair, reached down, and gently lifted the damp white napkin from her fingers, setting it aside on the table.
Then, taking his own pristine linen pocket square from his suit jacket, he knelt down beside Nora’s chair—right there on the expensive Persian rug—and carefully dabbed at the edge of the red wine stain on her white button-down shirt.
Nora froze, her breath catching in her lungs as his warm fingers brushed against the fabric near her collarbone.
The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
"You are not help, Nora," Victor murmured, his deep voice vibrating close to her ear. "You are the only reason this company survived the audit this quarter."
He straightened up, looking down at Camilla who stood trembling in her diamond earrings and crimson gown.
"Leo," Victor commanded without breaking eye contact with Camilla. "Take her to the lower vault. Give her thirty minutes to write down every contact she has inside the federal prosecutor's office. If she misses a single name, feed her to the harbor."
"Gladly, Boss," Leo said, stepping forward and grabbing Camilla firmly by the upper arm.
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"No! Victor! You can't do this!" Camilla screamed as Leo hauled her toward the heavy mahogany doors, her diamond earrings catching the warm ambient lighting of the restaurant before the door slammed shut behind them, cutting off her shrieks.
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