CHAPTER 17

The note sat on the nightstand like a living thing, its words haunting Maya even as she paced the room. The threat was clear, sharper than ever: “You’ve seen enough. Leave, or you’ll end up like her.”

Her mind raced, piecing together the puzzle fragments she’d uncovered: Helena’s veiled warnings, Zane’s cryptic answers, the photograph of Cocona marked by tragedy. And now, the undeniable connection between Luca and Donovan Scott.

Maya’s chest tightened as the realization sank in—she wasn’t just caught in a power struggle. She was the leverage, the weak point that could topple Zane’s empire.

But the question gnawed at her: Who was the puppet master pulling the strings?

Maya couldn’t stay locked in her room. The estate’s oppressive air suffocated her, and she needed clarity. Steeling herself, she threw on a coat and slipped out into the gardens. The cold night air bit at her skin, but it felt grounding, real.

She moved along the cobblestone path, her breath visible in the chill. The gardens, usually a source of quiet beauty, now felt cloaked in an eerie stillness. Even the rustle of leaves in the breeze seemed ominous.

Her steps faltered when she spotted something glinting faintly among the ivy near the fountain. Bending down, she parted the leaves, her breath catching when she saw it—a small, black surveillance camera nestled in the foliage.

Maya straightened, her pulse pounding.

Someone was watching her.

She glanced around, her heart racing as paranoia set in. Had the camera captured her pacing here on sleepless nights? Her moments of vulnerability?

She yanked the camera free, its wires snapping as she stuffed it into her coat pocket.

Maya didn’t wait until morning to confront Zane. She stormed into his study, the camera clutched tightly in her hand. Zane looked up from his desk, his silver eyes narrowing as he took in her expression.

“Maya,” he started, but she cut him off.

“Save it,” she snapped, slamming the camera onto his desk. “Explain this.”

Zane’s gaze flicked to the device, his features hardening. “Where did you find that?”

“In the garden,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “Someone is watching me, Zane. Watching us. And I want to know who.”

Zane rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate. He picked up the camera, inspecting it closely before setting it back down. “This isn’t one of mine,” he said coldly.

“That’s supposed to reassure me?” Maya asked, her voice rising. “You keep telling me I’m safe, but every day there’s a new threat—a note, a photo, a damn camera! How can I trust you when this keeps happening?”

Zane’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You think I don’t know how dangerous this is? You think I don’t see what’s happening to you?”

“Then do something about it!” Maya shot back, her frustration boiling over. “Because I’m done waiting for answers while someone plays with my life.”

Zane crossed the room in two strides, his hands gripping her arms firmly but not unkindly. “I am doing something,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “But you need to let me handle it.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” she asked, her voice cracking.

His gaze softened, his grip loosening. “Stay close to me,” he said quietly. “And don’t trust anyone.”

The next morning, Maya joined the Moretti family for breakfast, though her appetite was nonexistent. Helena was already seated at the head of the table, her frosty demeanor firmly in place. Luca arrived shortly after, his charming smile masking whatever game he was playing today.

“Good morning,” Helena said, her tone as sweet as poison. “I trust you slept well, Maya?”

Maya forced a polite smile. “Well enough, thank you.”

Helena’s lips twitched, her sharp eyes studying Maya like a hawk sizing up its prey. “That’s good to hear. Though, I imagine with everything going on, it must be… difficult to relax.”

Maya’s hand tightened around her fork. “I manage.”

“Of course,” Helena replied smoothly, her gaze flicking to Zane. “I must admit, though, I’m surprised at how little progress has been made in identifying the culprit behind the brake incident. One would think security would be more… thorough.”

Zane’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was a blade when he spoke. “We’re handling it, Mother.”

Helena raised an eyebrow, her smile never wavering. “I’m sure you are, darling. Though, if I may, perhaps the issue isn’t the security at all. Perhaps the problem is closer than we realize.”

Maya’s chest tightened, the insinuation clear.

Luca chuckled softly, breaking the tension. “Mother, you have a way of making everything sound so dramatic. I’m sure Zane has it all under control.”

“Of course,” Helena said, sipping her tea. “One can only hope.

After breakfast, Maya retreated to the library, her nerves frayed from the subtle but relentless attacks. She didn’t hear Luca enter until he spoke.

“You’re braver than I gave you credit for,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Maya glanced up, her eyes narrowing. “What do you want, Luca?”

He shrugged, his smile easy but his gaze calculating. “Just checking in. You seem… tense.”

“I wonder why,” she said dryly, turning back to the book she wasn’t really reading.

Luca moved closer, his presence both charming and unsettling. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing better than most would in your position. Helena can be… relentless, and Zane isn’t exactly an open book.”

Maya closed the book with a snap, meeting his gaze head-on. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

Luca’s smile faded slightly, replaced by something darker. “Be careful, Maya. You’re playing a game with people who don’t play fair. And in this house, loyalty is a rare commodity.”

Her stomach twisted. “Are you saying I shouldn’t trust Zane?”

“I’m saying you should trust yourself first,” Luca replied. “And keep your eyes open. You’d be surprised what people are capable of when they feel threatened.”

Before she could respond, he turned and left, leaving her with more questions than answers.

Later that evening, Alex knocked on Maya’s door, his expression grim.

“We found something,” he said.

Maya followed him to Zane’s study, where Zane was standing over a table littered with photographs, papers, and a laptop displaying surveillance footage.

“What is this?” Maya asked, her voice trembling.

Zane didn’t look at her. Instead, he gestured to one of the photographs on the table. It was grainy but clear enough to recognize the figure in it—Helena, speaking with a man Maya didn’t recognize.

“That’s Donovan Scott,” Alex said, his voice heavy.

Maya’s breath caught. “Helena is working with Donovan?”

“It looks that way,” Zane said, his voice cold. “But we need more proof before we confront her.”

Maya stared at the photograph, her mind racing. If Helena was involved, it explained so much—the notes, the threats, the sabotage. But it also meant that the danger was even closer than she’d feared.

As Maya returned to her room that night, her mind a storm of thoughts, she noticed something out of place: a small, metallic glint beneath the edge of her nightstand.

She crouched down, her heart pounding as she pulled the object free. It was a tiny wire, connected to a recording device.

Her blood ran cold.

Someone had been listening to her.

And whoever it was, they were still in the house.