The house felt different the moment Dante stepped out of Camille's room.
Not physically nothing had changed but the atmosphere shifted.
Sharper.
Tighter.
Coiled like a wire pulled to breaking.
Camille stood inside her doorway, fingers gripping the frame as she watched his retreating figure cut down the hallway with silent, lethal purpose.
When he disappeared around the corner, the silence swallowed her whole.
She closed the door softly.
Her hands were still shaking.
The messages were still there on her phone, glowing like tiny sparks of poison. She didn't want to look, but she couldn't bring herself to delete them either.
Instead, she sat on her bed and curled her knees to her chest.
Her mind ran wild.
Victor… why now? Why drag me back into this? Why try to ruin things I haven't even fully understood yet?
Why lie? Why go so far as to fabricate pictures?
Her chest tightened painfully.
Victor had abandoned her publicly, humiliated her, chosen another woman her cousin over her. She thought that was the final blow. She thought the worst was over.
Clearly not.
Her phone buzzed again.
Camille flinched so hard her breath hitched.
Another message.
But this one wasn't from the Unknown Number.
It was from Dante.
Stay in the room. Door locked. Do not open for anyone. I mean it.
She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
His messages were short he wasn't the type to waste words but the weight behind them grounded her.
She typed a shaky reply.
Okay. Are you safe?
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Then reappeared.
Finally:
Always. Focus on breathing. I'll handle the rest.
Her heart flipped in her chest.
She set the phone down, exhaled slowly, and leaned back against the wall. For the first time since the messages arrived, she felt her lungs open enough to draw a real breath.
But somewhere else in the house…
Dante was unraveling.
Dante stalked through the corridors like a storm shutting out the world behind him.
Every step fed the fire burning under his skin.
He reached his office door slammed shut behind him and grabbed the nearest device on his desk.
A secure tablet. Encrypted. Connected to systems most people didn't know existed.
His jaw clenched as he typed rapidly, fingers flying across the screen. Data streamed in. Logs. IP pings. Attempts at masking.
Someone had been careful.
But not careful enough.
The sender used a VPN. Several, actually. Layers of redirection.
But one slip one single slip was all Dante needed.
And he found it.
A local connection.
Not far.
Not random.
His breath sharpened.
It wasn't exactly Victor's device Victor wasn't stupid enough to involve his personal phone but it was someone close to him.
Someone acting on his behalf.
Someone who had access to family information.
Someone who knew exactly how to hurt Camille.
Dante's grip tightened around the tablet.
He texted one line to a contact.
Find this device. Bring the owner. Alive.
A reply came instantly.
On it. 10 minutes max.
Dante tossed the tablet onto the desk and paced the room, chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths.
He wasn't angry.
Angry was too small.
He was done.
Done watching Camille shake.
Done letting ghosts from her past crawl into her present.
Done letting anyone use her pain as a weapon.
Whoever did this whoever sent that message didn't just target Camille.
They targeted him.
And he didn't forgive things like that.
Not ever.
A knock echoed against the office door.
Dante turned sharply.
One of his men stood at the threshold, breath slightly labored as if he had run.
"We found him," he said. "He was trying to leave the district. He didn't get far."
Dante's voice was quiet. Too quiet.
"Bring him in."
Two more men dragged the culprit inside a thin, nervous-looking man Dante recognized immediately.
Victor's assistant.
Marlo.
Camille wouldn't know him. Victor kept his messes in the shadows.
But Dante knew him well enough.
Marlo was sweating, eyes darting around the room as if searching for escape.
"I -Dante, sir I can explain"
Dante stepped forward once.
Just one step.
It was enough to make Marlo's breath stutter.
"You sent threats to Camille," Dante said.
It wasn't a question.
Marlo swallowed hard. "I - I didn't want to. Victor he—he said I had to "
Dante's expression didn't change. Not even a flicker.
"He told you to use a fake image."
Marlo nodded rapidly. "Y-Yes. He gave me the picture. I just edited it. He he said she deserved it. That she lied about"
Dante's voice dropped like a blade.
"Don't finish that sentence."
Marlo fell silent instantly.
Dante stared at him for a long moment, breath steady, eyes unreadable.
Then he spoke again.
"Who else is involved?"
Marlo hesitated.
One of Dante's men shifted behind him. Marlo flinched.
"Elena," he blurted. "Elena helped. She… she gave Victor the old picture of Camille crying. She wanted him to use it. She said it would"
Dante closed his eyes briefly.
Not in surprise.
In restraint.
When he opened them again, they were ice-cold.
"Get him out of my sight," Dante said softly. "I don't need to hear anything else from him."
The men dragged Marlo away, his protests fading down the hall.
The moment the door clicked shut, Dante finally let out a breath.
Elena.
Victor.
Targeting Camille together.
Fine.
If they wanted a war, they had chosen the wrong opponent.
Dante picked up his phone and typed one message.
We're not done. Find everything Victor and Elena have touched in the last three months. Every call. Every picture. Every account. If they've crossed a line, I'll make sure they never touch another one again.
He hit send without hesitation.
Then he walked out of his office.
Toward Camille's room.
Camille sat on the bed, arms wrapped around herself, when another knock sounded.
Soft. Familiar.
"Camille," Dante said quietly. "It's me."
Her breath steadied.
She unlocked the door and opened it.
Dante stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. He wasn't breathing hard, but there was a storm behind his eyes.
Camille sensed it immediately.
"What happened?" she asked softly. "You look like"
He cut her off with a small shake of his head.
"It's handled," he said. "And it won't happen again."
Her throat tightened. "Did you find who sent it?"
"Yes."
"And…?"
"They won't be contacting you anymore."
Camille felt heat rise behind her eyes, a mix of relief and fear and disbelief.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to cause trouble or"
"Camille."
His voice was gentle but firm.
"You didn't cause this. They did."
She looked up at him.
"It's not your fault."
Her breath trembled.
And then slowly, carefully Dante reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand.
His touch was light.
Controlled.
Barely there.
But it grounded her in a way nothing else could.
Her heartbeat steadied.
Dante's jaw tightened.
"I promise you," he said quietly, "no one is going to hurt you again. Not Victor. Not Elena. Not anyone aligned with them. They made their move."
His eyes sharpened.
"Now I'll make mine."
Camille felt her pulse stutter not in fear, but something far more dangerous.
Something she didn't fully understand yet.
But Dante did.
He stepped back not far, just enough to control himself and exhaled.
"I need you to trust me tonight," he murmured. "Can you do that?"
Camille nodded slowly.
"Yes."
A muscle in Dante's jaw eased.
"Good."
He stepped toward the door, hand on the handle then paused.
"Camille."
She looked at him.
His eyes softened.
"If anything scares you… you call my name."
Then he left.
Leaving Camille standing there, heart thundering, knowing with absolute certainty:
Her past had come back to destroy her.
And Dante had decided to destroy it first.