Chapter 6 - THE MORNING PERFORMANCE|
At 7:00 a.m., sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, bathing the marble kitchen in bright, deceptive warmth.
I sat at the head of the long oak dining table, wearing a crisp charcoal suit, sipping dark coffee. My hands were perfectly steady. The blood on my cuff from last night had been scrubbed clean by my own hands before dawn.
Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Camille walked into the dining room wearing a cashmere sweater, looking radiant, soft, and breathtakingly innocent. She carried a tray of fresh croissants and jam.
"Good morning, darling," she cooed, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
The smell of her sweet rose perfume made my stomach turn, but I didn't flinch. I turned my head and smiled—a warm, affectionate, practiced smile.
"Good morning, my love," I replied smoothly. "Did you sleep well?"
"Wonderfully," she lied effortlessly, sitting down across from me. "Although the children were a bit restless last night. Jack had another nightmare about Isabella. I spent an hour trying to comfort them."
"You're too good to us, Camille," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. "I don't know what this family would do without you."
Jack and Rosie walked into the dining room, dressed in their school uniforms. The moment Jack saw Camille, his entire body stiffened. He instinctively placed himself slightly in front of Rosie.
"Good morning, children," Camille said, her voice dripping with artificial maternal warmth. "Come eat your breakfast."
Rosie looked at me, her brown eyes wide, filled with a silent, desperate plea.
I set my coffee cup down with a soft click.
"Jack, Rosie," I called gently. "Come here for a second."
Jack hesitated, then walked slowly toward my chair. I reached out, pulled both of them close to my side, and wrapped my heavy arms around them.
"I love you both," I whispered into Jack's hair, feeling him shiver before he finally relaxed against my chest. "No matter what happens, no one is ever going to send you away. Do you hear me?"
May you like
Jack looked up at me, his eyes searching mine. He saw something in my face—the real Roman Moretti, his father, returning from the dark—and he nodded once.
Camille’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
