Chapter 99 99. Camila's Stalker
LUCIEN
"Jessica and Lily should land in Zurich in about two hours."
Rafael stood in front of my desk, hands in his pockets. I rolled the passports between my fingers. Two small booklets. Two problems I'd pushed an ocean away.
I crossed to the wall safe, entered the first code and metal clicked. Inside sat a second safe. Another code, then the passports went in with the documents I wasn't ready to destroy yet.
"If Nadia actually betrays Ronan," Rafael said, "and it helps Camila's case, what happens with Jessica?"
I returned to my seat. The question had been chewing at the back of my skull all morning.
If Nadia came through, I could finish Ronan and take the knife off Camila's throat, but Elysium would still be chained to Don's clause. No loophole yet.
"Are you asking if I'd walk away from the inheritance?"
"Lucien, I'm asking why you're staying married to Jessica. For the sixty billion, or so you can burn it to the ground once it's yours."
I swiveled the chair toward the window. New York glared back endlessly and indifferent.
"You think I want to keep Don's money?" I said. "You think Elysium survives the second it's in my hands?"
Rafael stayed quiet.
"Nadia or not," I continued, "Jessica signs the one-year agreement."
"So I'm flying to Switzerland."
"You're the only one I trust to handle her. You get the signature. You keep her in that house. She keeps the title. I get control. Then I take Elysium apart slowly, where Don has to watch."
"And Camila?"
Her pretty face flashed in my head-lipstick smeared on me, eyes wet and stubborn, saying she wanted the truth even if it shattered her.
"It's one year. Jessica will remain an ocean away. Camila never has to know."
Rafael frowned. "Secrets like this rot things from the inside. What if she doesn't forgive you again?"
My phone rang before I could answer. Her name lit the screen.
I picked up instantly. "Fiera."
All I heard was fast breathing.
"I..." Her voice cracked. "I have a stalker."
Cold slid straight down my spine. "Where are you?"
"Store. I-" Her words tangled with her breath.
"Camila, slow down. Tell me where you are."
City noise bled through the line. Movement. Panic.
"I can't-"
"Stop running," I snapped. "You'll-"
The call dropped.
"Fuck."
I was already on my feet, grabbing my jacket. Rafael straightened as I walked past.
"Problem?"
"Camila." That was all I had time to say.
In the elevator, I hit redial. Busy. Again. Busy.
I called the guard meant to follow her. He picked up on the first ring, breath loud in the background.
"I was about to call you, sir. She ran out of the supermarket while on the phone, hit the curb wrong, tripped over a delivery dolly, hit her head when she went down."
My grip tightened on the wheel. "And you're just telling me now?"
"I called an ambulance first as she passed out, sir," he rushed out. "We're on our way to St. Luke's."
"You share your live location to me in the next ten seconds or you're fired. And if anything happens to her because you hesitated, I'll do worse than that."
"Yes, sir."
A ping came through. I floored it.
I grabbed the mask and sunglasses from my console before stepping out. The last thing she needed was paparazzi on top of everything else.
Inside, the nurse barely looked up until I dropped my name. Then I had three people offering to escort me to the emergency bay. Money and infamy always opened doors.
She was in a curtained off area, a doctor standing beside her, checking her pupils with a small penlight. My guard hovered awkwardly to the side.
"Out."
He disappeared.
"Mild concussion symptoms. BP is a bit elevated, but her scans are clear," the doctor explained quickly.
Camila lay on the bed, lashes dark against too‑pale skin. An IV snaked into her hand. Seeing her still sent a cold anger through me I didn't bother hiding.
"Thanks, I'll talk to her."
The doctor hesitated before stepping back.
I sat in the chair beside the bed and took her hand. It felt small and cold in mine.
"Princess..."
Her eyelids fluttered. She blinked up at the ceiling first, confusion creasing her forehead, then turned her head slowly toward me.
"Lucien?" Her voice was hoarse.
"Don't talk yet." My thumb stroked over her knuckles. "You scared the hell out of me."
A broken little laugh escaped her. "Join the club."
She gathered herself for a second, then the words burst out.
"The flowers, the notes, the guy at the club, the text from that weird number, and now this developer. It's like someone knows every detail about what's going on in my life, is inside my head, inside my phone, everywhere."
"What text?"
"The one after the club," she whispered. "I told you about the masked guy. After we got home, I got this message about my legs, about how I looked."
I reached for her bag on the side table, dug out her phone, and held it in front of her.
She gave me that small annoyed look she always did when I was bossy and complied. The phone unlocked. I pulled up her messages, scrolling until I saw it.
'You looked beautiful tonight...'
My jaw clenched.
"I have a tech guy that's handled digital cleanup for Hayes Corp for five years. If anyone can trace where this came from, it's him. I'll also have Rafael pull security footage from the supermarket. We'll find the web developer."
She exhaled shakily. "What if he's the same one from the club?"
"Then I'll handle him."
Her eyes searched my face above the mask. "How bad is it?"
"You're going to be fine," i stroked her hair. "You hit your head, but there's no bleeding, nor fracture. You're staying home and resting whether you like it or not."
"Why are you wearing this?" She reached up, fingers touching the side of my mask lightly.
"Didn't want to start another media storm, but if you want me to take it off, I will."
She shook her head, then winced. "No, I get it. Public proposal, public fiancée, secret hospital visits. Bad optics." Her voice wobbled on the last two words.
I didn't like the way that sounded. I pushed the sunglasses up onto my head and tugged the mask down to my chin. Then I turned her hand and kissed the back of it.
"I'm not hiding from you."
Her eyes softened in a way that made something in my chest shift.
The doctor came back with his clipboard. "Ms. Sterling, your CT is clean. You need rest, hydration, vitamins, and less stress if that's possible."
"Can I go home this afternoon?" she asked.
"If you have someone to watch you, yes. Headaches and dizziness might linger. If you feel worse, you come back immediately."
"She won't sneeze without me knowing," I said. "Thank you, Doctor."
When he left, I helped her sit up slowly. Her fingers trembled as she adjusted her clothes.
As I helped straighten her strands, she reached up, pushed my mask back over my mouth and nose, slid the glasses onto my face herself, then leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose through the fabric.
"I understand," she smiled weakly. "I'm okay with you covering your face. Just don't disappear."
"Not happening, ever."
We checked her out. I kept a hand on her waist as we walked, ready to catch her if she swayed. Before heading home, she tugged my sleeve.
"Can we stop at the store first?" she asked. "If I'm trapped at home, I want real food."
Supermarket, round two.
This time I pushed the cart while she added vegetables, pasta, snacks. I added fruits every time her back was turned until half the cart was color.
"I'm about to drown you in vitamins," I grinned when she caught me.
"The doctor will love you," she muttered, but there was a small smile there.
Back at the building, I got her upstairs first, then made two trips for the bags. She tried to grab more than one; I stared until she dropped them.
We unpacked together. She lined up jars and boxes while I took over the heavier things.
"I'm changing your doors," I said.
She paused. "What?"
"All of them," I continued. "High‑security, bulletproof, biometric. No more cheap locks. Fingerprint and retina only."
"That's overkill," she protested. "Lucien-"
"Or," I said mildly, "I buy you a penthouse and you move in tomorrow. Your choice, milady."