Chapter 4 - The Secret Vincent Wouldn't Name|
Camila did not sleep much that night.
She kept imagining the stranger standing beyond the western gate, speaking to Mia while nobody was watching.
By sunrise, her fear had hardened into anger.
Whatever secret the Curado family was protecting, her daughter had no business being drawn into it.
At seven twenty, she waited outside Vincent's study.
He emerged carrying his phone and a folder stamped with the Curado Shipping emblem.
“Miss Dwarte?”
“I need to speak with you.”
He glanced toward the entrance hall.
“Is Mia all right?”
“For now.”
The two words made him stop.
“Come inside.”
Camila entered the study and closed the door behind her.
She remained standing.
“My daughter saw a man near the lighthouse cottage.”
Vincent placed his folder on the desk.
“So Desmond informed me.”
“She says he looks exactly like you.”
Vincent said nothing.
“She also says he showed her half a silver compass.”
For the first time, his composure cracked.
His eyes moved toward the locked desk drawer.
Camila noticed.
“You know what I'm talking about.”
Vincent looked back at her.
“I know there are circumstances you don't understand.”
“Then explain them.”
“It isn't that simple.”
“It becomes simple when a stranger approaches my three-year-old.”
Vincent rested both hands against the edge of his desk.
Camila expected him to remind her that she was an employee.
Instead, he looked exhausted.
“Did the man frighten Mia?”
“No.”
“Did he threaten her?”
“No.”
“Then please understand that her safety is my priority.”
Camila shook her head.
“Her safety is my responsibility.”
A faint, reluctant respect appeared in his expression.
“Fair enough.”
He reached for his phone.
“I'll make certain nobody approaches her without your permission.”
“Who is he?”
Vincent's silence lasted too long.
Finally, he said, “Someone connected to my family.”
“Connected how?”
“That's all I can tell you today.”
Camila turned toward the door.
Vincent spoke again before she reached it.
“Miss Dwarte.”
She looked back.
“There are people who would use what they know about this family to hurt innocent people.”
“Then you should stop letting innocent people stand in the middle of your secrets.”
He accepted the words without argument.
By lunchtime, the estate had become unusually tense.
Vincent canceled two meetings.
Desmond doubled the guards stationed near the service entrance.
Julian Voss arrived before noon and remained inside the study for almost an hour.
Camila was changing the flowers in the corridor when their voices rose.
“You promised this was finished,” Julian said.
Vincent's answer came low and sharp.
“Lower your voice.”
“You can't reopen something that was buried twenty-five years ago.”
“Don't tell me what I can reopen.”
A chair scraped against the floor.
Then Julian spoke again.
“Your father understood the importance of keeping certain things in the family.”
“My father made a great many mistakes.”
“And you inherited the consequences.”
The study door opened without warning.
Julian stepped into the corridor and found Camila holding the flower vase.
His expression changed into a practiced smile.
“Beautiful arrangement.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Working here must be a considerable improvement over your previous position.”
Camila froze.
She had never discussed her employment history with him.
Julian glanced toward her name badge.
“A diner near Ror Valley, wasn't it?”
“Yes.”
“And your mother is undergoing medical treatment.”
Camila felt the muscles in her back tighten.
“How do you know that?”
“We conduct thorough checks on every employee.”
His smile widened slightly.
“Stability is important when a child depends on you.”
He walked away before she could answer.
That evening, Camila called Denise.
Her cousin listened while Camila described Julian's comments.
“That's not normal,” Denise said.
“I know.”
“Do you want me to help you find another position?”
Camila looked at the stack of medical invoices beside her bed.
She had sent most of her first paycheck directly toward Elena's treatment costs.
“I can't leave without something lined up.”
“Then start looking now.”
Camila promised she would.
After the call, she searched for information about the Curado family on her laptop.
Most articles described Vincent's shipping investments, waterfront property deals, and his father's controversial business connections.
Several older reports mentioned organized-crime investigations that had never resulted in charges against Vincent.
Camila scrolled deeper.
An archived newspaper photograph stopped her.
The picture showed a warehouse burning beside Ashford Harbor.
Below it was a headline from twenty-five years earlier about the disappearance of a dockworker after a suspicious fire.
The missing man's name was Adrien Mercer.
Camila enlarged the grainy photograph accompanying the report.
The young man had Vincent Curado's face.
Under the photograph, a brief caption explained that Adrien had been presumed dead when investigators recovered unidentified remains near the damaged pier.
Camila felt her pulse quicken.
She printed the article and carried it downstairs.
Vincent was leaving his study when she reached the hall.
She held out the page.
“Is this the man my daughter saw?”
He examined the photograph.
The blood seemed to drain from his face.
“Where did you find this?”
“In a newspaper archive.”
For a long moment, he stared at the young man's image.
Then he folded the paper carefully.
“That name,” he said quietly, “is one my family spent twenty-five years trying not to hear.”
Before Camila could ask another question, Desmond entered through the front doors.
His coat was wet, and mud stained one trouser leg.
“Vincent, we have a problem.”
Vincent looked up.
“Berth Six?”
May you like
Desmond nodded.
“The man who found the old shipping records has disappeared.”
