CHAPTER 1 — The House That Doesn’t Want Peace
CHAPTER 1 — The House That Doesn’t Want Peace
By morning, the penthouse did not feel like it had changed.
The marble still shone. The glass still caught the Manhattan light in sharp, expensive angles. The security men still stood like shadows at every entrance.
But something under the surface had shifted—something no one could name out loud.
Leo refused to leave Cameron’s side.
Not even Matteo Duca’s voice—low, controlled, absolute—could pull him away without another meltdown that rattled the windows. And for the first time in that house, Matteo did not force it.
He watched instead.
Cameron knelt on the floor of the playroom, tying Leo’s shoelaces with slow patience. The same child who had thrown a train like a weapon now clung to her sleeve as if she might vanish.
“You don’t have to hold on that tight,” she told him gently.
“I do,” Leo whispered, as if it were the only rule he trusted.
Matteo stood in the doorway, unmoving.
One of his men leaned in slightly. “Sir… this is disrupting routine. We can bring in another specialist—”
Matteo didn’t look away from Cameron. “We already brought in specialists.”
The man went quiet.
Because it was true.
Doctors. Therapists. Behavioral consultants. All of them had come and gone like weather.
Cameron had done what none of them managed in one night: she had made Leo stop fighting like he was alone.
But not everyone saw it as healing.
In the staff corridor, voices gathered like smoke.
“She’s not trained.”
“She’s provoking attachment.”
“He’s a Duca heir. Attachment is dangerous.”
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And deeper than all of it—something unspoken, sharper:
“If he calms down… things change.”
