Chapter 3 - SUITE 14
Stefan arrived at Hotel Levante just after sunset.
The Mediterranean was blue-black beyond the balcony.
Suite 14 looked almost exactly as he remembered it.
That made it worse.
Same pale stone walls.
Same brass lamps.
Same balcony overlooking the harbor.
Someone had scattered rose petals across the bed.
Stefan stopped at the bedroom door.
Camille came up behind him.
"Too much?"
He turned.
She wore red.
Of course she did.
Camille Dryer had spent her life understanding entrances.
She touched his chest.
"We're finally here."
Stefan removed her hand.
"We have dinner with Armon in twenty minutes."
Her smile faded slightly.
"Stefan."
"What?"
"Don't punish me because your wife found out."
His eyes hardened.
"Be careful."
"About what? She knew eventually."
"No. She discovered it. That's different."
Camille folded her arms.
"You chose me."
The sentence bothered him.
He looked at the rose petals.
Had he?
For five months, he had compartmentalized Camille into hotel rooms, dinners after meetings, locked offices and private cars.
He had never imagined her standing inside Suite 14.
Now the reality of it seemed obscene.
His phone vibrated.
Tobias.
Stefan answered.
"Talk."
"Mrs. Voss left the estate."
His entire body went still.
"When?"
"Thirty-two minutes ago."
"Where?"
"Unknown."
"What does unknown mean?"
"She dismissed the exterior team this afternoon. We maintained distance like you instructed, but she switched vehicles at a medical clinic."
Stefan walked toward the balcony.
"Find her."
"Already working."
"And Lucian?"
"His car was at the estate."
Stefan's expression darkened.
He called Lucian immediately.
The lie came easily.
Office.
Stefan ended the call.
Camille watched him.
"Problem?"
"My wife."
She gave a small sigh.
"She's making a scene."
Stefan turned so slowly Camille's expression faltered.
"Elara has never made a scene in her life."
At the same moment in Toronto, Elara stared at Lucian.
"My exit?"
Lucian rubbed both hands over his face.
"Four years ago Stefan created a contingency."
"For what?"
"You."
"Why?"
"Because Armon Dry isn't a businessman you disappoint."
Lucian pointed to Northglass Holdings.
"That company owns a house in Nova Scotia under an independent trust."
Meridian Seven.
"Medical expenses, private transport, legal retainers."
Calloway Maritime.
"A vessel."
Elara stared at him.
"Stefan built me an escape route."
"Yes."
"From whom?"
Lucian hesitated.
"From himself, if necessary."
Silence.
Elara's stomach tightened.
Not labor.
Not yet.
She knew Braxton Hicks contractions.
This was anger.
"Start at the beginning."
Lucian did.
Seven years earlier, Stefan had borrowed money to keep Voss Atlantic alive.
Not bank money.
Dry money.
Armon had financed the company through a network of legitimate and illegitimate businesses, gaining leverage over shipping lanes Stefan gradually transformed into a legal empire.
Stefan had spent years untangling himself.
The Halifax agreement was supposed to finish it.
"Then why Camille?"
Lucian looked away.
That told Elara enough.
"Don't protect him."
"I'm not."
"Then say it."
Lucian's voice lowered.
"He slept with her because he wanted to."
There it was.
No conspiracy.
No noble explanation.
No secret sacrifice that magically transformed betrayal into love.
Elara appreciated Lucian for not insulting her with one.
"But Camille also became leverage," he continued. "Armon encouraged it."
"Stefan knew?"
"Not initially."
"And when he realized?"
"He didn't stop."
Lucian's answer hurt more than anything else.
Elara stood carefully.
"So the man who built me an emergency escape route is also the reason I need one."
Lucian didn't answer.
"Where is the house?"
"Elara—"
"Where?"
"Outside Lunenburg."
She nodded.
"I want access."
"Stefan will kill me."
"No."
Elara picked up the folder.
"He'll be angry with you. There's a difference."
"You sound very confident."
"I've spent seven years translating Stefan's anger for everyone around him."
She walked toward the door.
"I'm done doing that too."
By midnight, she was in a small private airfield north of Toronto.
Lucian had arranged a flight.
Not because Stefan had authorized it.
Because Elara had.
She stood beside the aircraft with one hand beneath her belly.
Lucian handed her an envelope.
"New identification documents. Banking information. Property records."
She looked at him.
"How long has Stefan kept this ready?"
"Four years."
"Does he check it?"
"Every month."
That nearly broke her.
Every month.
While forgetting prenatal appointments.
While missing dinners.
While lying beside Camille.
Stefan had quietly checked whether his wife's escape route remained intact.
How could one man care so carefully and love so badly?
Elara boarded the plane.
In Portoino, Stefan sat across from Armon Dry at a private dining table.
Camille sat beside him.
Armon raised his wineglass.
"To Halifax."
Stefan did not touch his.
"Before we sign, I want the final ownership schedule."
Armon smiled.
"Still suspicious."
"Still alive."
A folder appeared.
Stefan opened it.
Three pages in, he stopped.
A trust beneficiary had been amended.
Northglass Holdings.
He read the name twice.
Elara Marie Voss.
His pulse changed.
"Where did you get this?"
Armon's smile widened.
"Get what?"
Stefan rose.
Camille touched his arm.
"Stefan."
He ignored her.
"Northglass was private."
"Nothing is private."
Armon leaned back.
"Not your accounts."
His gaze shifted deliberately toward Camille.
"Not your bed."
Stefan understood.
The affair had never been merely tolerated by Armon.
It had been cultivated.
Camille went pale.
"Uncle—"
"Quiet."
Stefan's chair hit the floor behind him.
Armon remained seated.
"You wanted freedom from me," he said. "So I found the thing you were careless enough to risk."
Stefan's phone vibrated.
Tobias.
A message.
ELARA'S PASSPORT WAS USED AT A PRIVATE TERMINAL. DESTINATION NOVA SCOTIA.
Stefan stared at the screen.
Armon laughed softly.
"Looks like your wife finally discovered the door you built for her."
Stefan looked at Camille.
For the first time in five months, he saw her without desire, convenience or ego obscuring the view.
A woman who had known exactly what her uncle was doing.
"You knew."
Camille's silence answered.
Stefan stepped away.
"Where are you going?"
Armon asked.
"Home."
"The agreement."
"Burn it."
"Those ships will never enter Halifax."
"Then they don't enter Halifax."
Camille followed him.
"You can't just leave."
Stefan stopped at the door of Suite 14.
Then he removed his wedding ring.
Camille's eyes widened.
For one second, she thought he was giving it up.
Instead, Stefan placed it carefully in his pocket.
"I should have left five months ago."
He walked out.
But by the time Stefan's plane reached Canada, his Oakville estate was dark.
The nursery was empty.
Elara's clothes were gone.
The cedar chest stood open.
On the kitchen island sat the photograph from Suite 14.
Stefan turned it over.
His old handwriting remained.
Wherever you are is enough.
May you like
Beneath it, Elara had finally added a sentence of her own.
Then learn to live without knowing where I am.
