Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Remembered the Fire|
Julian Voss recovered from his surprise faster than Camila expected.
He glanced at the photograph, adjusted his cuff links, and approached Vincent with a sympathetic expression.
“I didn't realize you were looking through old family pictures.”
Vincent folded the photograph and placed it inside his jacket.
“It's a private matter.”
“Of course.”
Julian's eyes shifted toward Camila.
“Although I would imagine Miss Dwarte has enough responsibilities without involving herself in family history.”
Camila met his gaze.
“My daughter became involved when someone began walking around the property without explanation.”
Vincent stepped between them.
“That conversation is finished, Julian.”
The older man smiled tightly.
“As you wish.”
But as he walked away, Camila noticed the way his hands had begun to tremble.
The following morning, Mrs. Alves asked Camila to accompany her into the old linen room.
The room was located in a quiet corner of the mansion, beyond the formal guest suites.
Its tall cabinets smelled of lavender, furniture polish, and linen that had been stored for decades.
Mrs. Alves closed the door.
“You met Adrien,” she said.
Camila nodded.
“And Mr. Curado knows.”
“Yes.”
The older woman sat on a wooden chair.
“I wondered whether I would live long enough to see him come home.”
Camila pulled another chair closer.
“You knew both brothers?”
“I helped raise them.”
Mrs. Alves stared at her hands.
“Vincent was a serious little boy, always trying to behave like his father expected.”
She smiled sadly.
“Adrien climbed trees, collected injured birds, and asked questions nobody wanted answered.”
“What happened between them?”
“Their father.”
Mrs. Alves explained that Salvatore Curado had built his shipping empire through legitimate contracts and relationships with dangerous men.
As his influence grew, he became obsessed with controlling everything around him.
His wife, Isabel, resisted him in ways that were rarely visible to outsiders.
She wanted her sons educated far from the criminal associates who visited the estate.
Salvatore wanted Vincent prepared to inherit the business.
And he wanted Adrien removed from anyone who might question the succession.
When the boys were nine, Adrien was sent away to live under his mother's maiden name, Mercer.
Official family biographies gradually stopped mentioning him.
Vincent remained at the mansion.
“Did their mother allow that?” Camila asked.
“She fought it for years.”
Mrs. Alves swallowed.
“But Salvatore had lawyers, money, and people who were willing to make threats.”
Camila glanced toward the locked door.
“And the fire?”
Mrs. Alves went still.
“That was the night everything broke.”
Before she could continue, footsteps sounded outside.
A man's voice called for the senior housekeeper.
It was Julian.
Mrs. Alves immediately stood.
“We cannot discuss this here.”
“Why are you afraid of him?”
The older woman's eyes filled with tears.
“Because I remember what he looked like when the warehouse burned.”
The answer disturbed Camila more than any dramatic accusation could have.
Mrs. Alves was not a timid woman.
She had managed demanding employees, visiting executives, and Vincent's exacting household routines without hesitation.
Yet the mention of Julian Voss had made her hands shake.
Over the next ten days, Camila began noticing changes around the estate.
Additional cameras appeared near the servants' entrance.
Several familiar guards were replaced by men who rarely spoke.
A new vehicle remained parked near the western service road each evening.
When she asked Desmond about the changes, he looked irritated.
“Julian recommended an outside security contractor.”
“Did you approve it?”
“No.”
“Then why are they here?”
“Because somebody above my pay grade approved the invoice.”
Camila raised an eyebrow.
“Does Vincent know?”
“He does now.”
During those days, Mia continued behaving like an ordinary three-year-old.
She insisted that Bubbles needed his own breakfast plate.
She asked why seagulls sounded angry.
She cried because her favorite blue crayon broke and laughed when Mrs. Alves replaced it with two new ones.
But every few evenings, she asked whether the sad man had found his brother.
Camila always answered carefully.
“That's something the grown-ups are working on.”
Mia seemed satisfied.
“Brothers should play together.”
One afternoon, Camila found Vincent standing alone beside the drawing Mia had left on the sitting-room table.
He was looking at the two identical men.
“She gave one of them a broken heart,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Which one is supposed to be me?”
“I didn't ask.”
Vincent touched the corner of the paper.
“Perhaps she doesn't know either.”
Camila studied him.
“Do you want your brother back?”
His reply came almost too quietly to hear.
“I wanted him back for twenty-five years.”
That night, someone slipped a small envelope beneath the door of Camila's staff apartment.
Inside was a photocopy of an old insurance document.
It listed the destruction of Warehouse Six in the fire that had supposedly killed Adrien.
At the bottom was an authorization signature.
Julian Voss.
A handwritten message had been added beneath it.
The warehouse was emptied before the fire, but the night watchman was still inside.
Camila read the sentence three times.
May you like
Then she noticed the date.
The authorization had been signed six hours before anyone reported seeing smoke.
