Chapter 2
Nico did not let me help him up at first.
Of course he didn’t.
He braced one hand against the console table and tried to pull himself toward the fallen wheelchair.
His jaw was locked.
His cheek burned red.
Every guest watched like the floor beneath him was a stage.
I hated them for it.
I hated his men more.
Luca.
Enzo.
Vito.
Three men with guns beneath their jackets.
Three men who had followed Nico for years.
Not one had moved when Camille hit him.
“Nico,” I said softly.
His eyes cut to mine.
Not angry.
Warning.
Do not make me small.
So I lowered my voice.
“Your chair is on your left. Your right wheel is free. If you roll toward me, I’ll stabilize the frame. You do the transfer.”
His breathing changed.
He understood.
Help without pity.
I righted the wheelchair and locked it.
He dragged himself closer, arms shaking.
Camille crossed her arms.
“This is humiliating.”
I looked at her.
“For you, I hope.”
A few guests gasped.
Nico’s mouth twitched.
Barely.
He lifted himself into the chair with brutal effort.
No one clapped.
Good.
If anyone had, I might have thrown the medication cup at them.
Once seated, Nico adjusted his shirt cuffs like he had not just been struck and left on the floor by people who owed him loyalty.
Then he looked at his security.
“Leave.”
Luca stiffened.
“Boss—”
“I said leave.”
Enzo stepped forward.
“We thought it was a private matter.”
Nico’s eyes went flat.
“She hit me in a foyer full of witnesses.”
No one answered.
He turned toward the ballroom.
“To everyone who enjoyed the show, the party is over.”
A murmur moved through the guests.
Camille laughed.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Nico did not look at her.
“Luca, anyone still here in five minutes loses my protection, my business, and my patience.”
That moved them.
Fast.
Guests gathered purses, coats, dignity, and fear.
The pianist fled through the side door.
Camille’s parents rushed in from the ballroom, both pale and furious.
Her father, Franklin Ashcroft, pointed at me.
“Who is this girl?”
Nico answered before I could.
“The only person in this house with a spine tonight.”
Franklin’s face reddened.
Camille snapped, “She attacked me.”
I lifted my chin.
“I stopped you from striking him again.”
“You grabbed my wrist.”
“And I’ll do it again if you raise your hand.”
Her mother gasped.
Franklin stepped toward me.
Nico’s voice cut through the foyer.
“Try it.”
Franklin stopped.
That was the Nico everyone remembered.
Not standing.
Not walking.
Still dangerous.
Still able to freeze a room with two words.
Edna appeared at the edge of the hallway.
Her face was tight.
She had seen enough in that house to know tonight was not finished.
“Nico,” she said quietly. “Your medication.”
I looked at the tray scattered across the marble.
Two syringes.
One plastic cup.
One missing tablet.
My stomach dropped.
I turned.
Camille was watching the floor too.
So was Franklin.
Too fast.
Too carefully.
Nico saw my face.
“What?”
I crouched near the tray.
“The evening dose is missing.”
Camille sighed.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
I ignored her and checked the cup.
Empty.
The pill that should have been inside was gone.
“Did you take it?” I asked Nico.
“No.”
“Did anyone touch the tray?”
Camille smiled.
“Maybe you dropped it when you decided to play hero.”
I stood slowly.
My pulse hammered.
For weeks, I had been careful.
Quiet.
Collecting proof.
Waiting until I knew exactly what was happening.
But tonight had ripped the curtain open.
Nico looked from me to Camille.
“What medication?”
I swallowed.
“I need to show you something privately.”
Camille’s face sharpened.
“No. Whatever game she’s playing, she can play it here.”
Nico turned his chair toward her.
“You don’t give orders in my house.”
She leaned down, close to his face.
Her voice turned soft and poisonous.
“In seventeen days, this becomes my house too.”
Something in the foyer went cold.
Nico did not blink.
“Not if I’m dead before then?”
Her smile vanished.
Franklin snapped, “That is an outrageous accusation.”
Nico looked at me.
“Is it?”
My mouth went dry.
I had proof, but not enough.
Not for the whole conspiracy.
Not for what I feared.
I took out my phone and opened the photos.
Medication cabinet.
Camille’s hand on the lock.
Wrong pills beside the bottle.
A screenshot of Nico’s blood pressure drop after an unlogged dose.
Then I showed him the photo from two nights ago.
Camille in the medication room at 2:13 a.m.
Nico stared.
His face did not change.
That frightened me more than rage would have.
Franklin moved fast.
He reached for my phone.
I stepped back.
Nico’s chair rolled between us so sharply the wheel clipped Franklin’s shoe.
“You touch her,” Nico said, “and I stop being civilized.”
Franklin looked around, suddenly remembering who owned the room.
Camille laughed too loudly.
“This is absurd. I looked for aspirin. Your nurse is obsessed with me.”
I said, “I found substituted tablets.”
Her eyes flashed.
Just once.
Nico saw.
“Where?”
I hesitated.
“My room.”
Camille snapped, “She planted them.”
Nico ignored her.
“Edna. Lock the west stairs. Nobody goes upstairs.”
Edna moved immediately.
Franklin’s phone buzzed.
He checked the screen and looked at Camille.
Something passed between them.
Panic.
Nico noticed that too.
“Luca,” he said.
Luca stepped forward from the doorway, shame on his face.
“Yes, boss.”
“Collect every phone.”
Franklin barked, “You have no legal right.”
Nico tilted his head.
“Then call police and explain why my fiancée was photographed in my medication room before my nurse found drug substitutions.”
Silence.
Then Nico looked at me.
“Call my attorney.”
“I already did.”
His eyes lifted.
That almost-smile returned.
“When?”
“When Camille’s hand went up the second time.”
Camille stared at me with hate.
“You little snake.”
“No,” I said. “I’m the fourth nurse. The first three ran. I stayed.”
Nico’s eyes held mine.
I had never told him why I stayed.
Not Wes.
Not the surgery.
Not the fear that losing this job meant losing my brother.
Now Camille knew enough to attack.
“You stayed,” Camille said softly, “because we pay you enough to forget your place.”
I felt my face heat.
Nico’s voice dropped.
“What does that mean?”
Camille smiled.
“It means everyone has a price.”
Before anyone could answer, the front doors opened.
A man in a black coat stepped inside with two uniformed officers behind him.
Jonah Vale.
Nico’s attorney.
May you like
He looked at Nico’s cheek, the overturned wheelchair, the empty medication cup, and then at Camille.
“Good evening,” he said calmly. “Which one of you tried to kill my client?”
