Chapter 3 - Whispers of the Past
The word hung heavy in the silent gallery. Cameron took a step back, her heart racing.
"Murdered?" she whispered.
Matteo took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on a large painting of his late wife. "The brake lines were severed. The car crashed on a deserted stretch of highway, and by the time emergency services arrived, the fire had destroyed everything. The police ruled it an accident, but I know better. The Duca family has enemies. Old, powerful enemies who couldn't break me in the boardroom, so they struck at my heart."
"And you think... you think whoever did it might come back?" Cameron asked, a sudden chill running down her spine.
"I think," Matteo said, stepping closer until he could look directly into her gray-blue eyes, "that a woman with my dead wife's exact face appearing at my doorstep as a maid isn't an accident. Who sent you, Cameron?"
Cameron felt a flash of genuine anger. "No one sent me! I applied through an agency on 42nd Street because I needed eighty dollars to pay my utility bill! You think I want to be here? You think I want to look at pictures of a dead woman who looks like me while a traumatized child calls me 'Mama'? I am a human being, Mr. Duca, not a ghost sent to play games with you!"
Matteo stared at her, caught off guard by the raw, fierce pride in her voice. For two years, everyone around him had walked on eggshells, terrified of his power and his grief. But this woman, wearing a stained uniform and possessing nothing to her name, stood up to him without a shred of fear.
Before Matteo could answer, a tiny voice echoed from the doorway.
"Cameron?"
They both turned. Leo stood at the entrance, clutching his small wooden train, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. He looked terrified, seeing them stand so close in the gallery of his mother's portraits.
Cameron immediately dropped to her knees, ignoring the pain in her leg, and opened her arms. "I'm right here, sweetheart."
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Leo ran across the room, bypassing his father entirely, and threw his arms around Cameron's neck. He buried his face in her shoulder, breathing heavily.
Matteo watched the scene, his chest tightening with an emotion he hadn't felt in years. He looked from his son to Cameron, realizing with terrifying clarity that whether she was a threat or a miracle, he could never let her leave.
