David’s POV

My gaze accidentally locked onto Camille’s, and her eyes were like a silent warning that promised a slow death if I stepped out of line.

I looked away, focusing on Andrea. Her face was a mask of desperate perfection, her lips barely moving as she whispered, “Please, just smile for now... then maybe we can talk later. Please, David.”

I didn't answer. My mind was miles away, racing through the plan that felt like it was crumbling in my hands. Clara was supposed to be here by now. She was supposed to have him tucked away in a hotel room where my hired assistants would finish the work,...