Chapter 2 - The Gilded Cage
The blue guest room was larger than the entire apartment Cameron rented in Queens. Silk drapes framed windows that offered a dizzying view of Central Park, and the king-sized bed was covered in Egyptian cotton. Yet, to Cameron, it felt like a prison.
After an elderly housekeeper named Anna tended to Cameron’s scraped knee and bruised shoulder, Leo had refused to leave her side. When Anna tried to lead the boy to his own room, he began to hyperventilate, clutching Cameron’s skirt with white knuckles. In the end, Matteo had agreed to let Leo sleep in the large guest bed beside Cameron.
Late that night, while the little boy slept peacefully beside her, Cameron lay awake, staring at the high ceiling. Her mind raced. She was a woman who lived in the shadows—working three menial jobs, keeping her head down, avoiding attention. She had secrets of her own, quiet scars from a past she spent years trying to outrun. Being trapped in the world of Manhattan’s most feared billionaire was dangerous.
Unable to sleep, Cameron slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Leo, and walked out into the dimly lit hallway.
A faint light spilled from the far end of the corridor. She followed it, her bare feet silent against the plush runner rugs, until she reached a half-open door.
It was a gallery—or rather, a shrine.
Portraits of Sofia hung along the walls. Sofia laughing on a yacht in Capri; Sofia holding a newborn Leo; Sofia posing in an elegant evening gown at a gala. Cameron stepped into the room, mesmerized and horrified by the resemblance. Looking at the walls was like looking into a mirror that reflected a life she had never lived.
"It's disturbing, isn't it?"
Cameron spun around. Matteo stood in the doorway, wearing a dark silk robe over a white shirt, a fresh glass of bourbon in his hand.
"You shouldn't keep him in the dark, Mr. Duca," Cameron said quietly, gesturing toward the portraits. "Leo needs to know his mother is gone so he can grieve her. You've kept this penthouse like a museum, freezing time. That's why he's so angry."
Matteo walked slowly toward her, stopping only inches away. The scent of cedarwood, expensive bourbon, and rain clung to him. "You know nothing about my family, Cameron."
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"I know what grief looks like," she replied, her voice steady. "I see it in him. And I see it in you."
Matteo’s jaw tightened. "Sofia didn't just die in that car crash, Cameron. She was murdered."
