A Kiss For Three

chapter 24

I spent the whole day in my office, swinging in my chair and staring at the ceiling as if it might drop me an answer. Nothing came. Every possibility felt like a trap waiting to snap. Betray Nico? Never. Do nothing? Camille would burn us both alive. Fight back? She would destroy me before I even got the chance.

The walls felt smaller by the minute, the air heavier. I rubbed my temples, trying to think. There had to be a way out—there always was. But every path I saw ended the same: in fire.

By nightfall, I couldn’t sit still anymore. I grabbed my violin case and headed two streets over to the rehearsal studio. The city felt quiet for once—eerily so. When I walked in, Mr. Levin was there, sitting at the piano with his usual cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He didn’t need to.

He just nodded. “You look like hell, kid.”

We played. No words, no questions. Just sound. The violin and piano intertwined like they had known each other forever. Every note pulled something out of me—anger, fear, exhaustion—until there was nothing left but quiet.

When we stopped, the teacher exhaled, the smoke curling into the dim air.

***

By the time I got back to my office, it was midnight. The city hummed outside the window, the lights of distant cars flickering like restless thoughts. I called Daniel.

He answered with a yawn. “You sound desperate. Should I bring coffee or holy water?”

“Both,” I said.

He showed up half an hour later, holding two takeaway cups and looking half-dead. “All right, talk.”

So I did. Everything. Camille, the threats, the newspaper, the deadline. By the end of it, he just leaned back and stared at me.

“Well,” he said finally, “you’re screwed.”

“Thanks, Daniel. Very helpful.”

“I mean it. You’re done if we don’t do anything, that’s for sure.”

“There’s gotta be something,” I insisted. “Anything we can use.”

He sighed, dragging his chair closer to the desk. “I don’t know. I’ll look, but as far as I can see, there’s not much we can do now.”

So we searched. For hours. The room filled with the soft glow of screens and the bitter smell of coffee. We scrolled through articles, files, links, old photos—anything that could expose Camille. Nothing stuck. Every lead ended in smoke.

At some point, Daniel groaned. “You realize we’re chasing ghosts, right?”

“Ghosts have traces,” I muttered. “We just haven’t found hers yet.”

He rolled his eyes but kept digging. It was what I liked about him—he complained like hell but never stopped helping.

By 5 a.m., my body was buzzing from caffeine and frustration. The city outside started to brighten, thin morning light seeping through the blinds. I had given up on finding anything when Daniel suddenly straightened in his chair, a grin crept across his face.

“Well, I didn’t find dirt on Camille,” he said, eyes gleaming, “but I found something better.”

I blinked. “What?”

He turned his laptop toward me. I leaned in—and nearly choked on my coffee.

Reports. Financial records. Fraud claims. Secret documents not released to the public. The headline on the top read:

“WALLEN INVESTIGATIONS IN FINANCIAL RUINS: MILLION-DOLLAR DEBT UNCOVERED.”

Below it—details of Steve’s failed agency in Spain. Loans, unpaid taxes, fabricated case reports. The whole façade collapsed.

My mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Oh my God.”

Daniel smirked. “The great Steve Wallen—king of lies, broke and drowning in debt. Guess karma’s got a good sense of humor.”

Despite everything, laughter burst out of me. Loud, messy, uncontrollable. It felt good. Too good.

“Now this,” I said between breaths, “this just healed something in me. I’m sure of it.”

“Glad to help,” Daniel chuckled. “Gonna do anything about it?”

I thought for a moment, leaning back. “Not yet. Let him play the big rich boy. I know it’s a circus—and he’s the main clown.”

Daniel snorted. “Fair point.”

I stood, stretching my stiff arms. “I need air. Keep looking, okay? Maybe Camille left some trace we haven’t noticed yet.”

“Sure thing,” he said, already buried back in his screen.

Outside, the sun had risen fully now, washing the city in cold light. Manhattan was alive again—crowded streets, rushing people, the smell of coffee and pretzels. I wrapped my coat tighter around me and walked with no destination.

Eventually, I ended up near the small park with its soft lamps still glowing faintly from the night. People walked their dogs, some jogged, others sipped coffee. I slowed down. This place felt familiar.

I remembered that night—me, Adrian, and Nico lying on the grass, laughing until we cried.

Nico had said, “You were gonna become a mermaid if you fell into that lake. You know, tail and… fishy look like that.”

I’d laughed so hard my ribs hurt. “I hate even imagining that.”

And Adrian, calm as ever, added, “Well, it sounds like something Nico would draw.”

We’d all laughed again, and I’d felt… safe. I sighed, the memory both warm and cruel. I’d have given anything to feel that simplicity again.

“Deep thoughts?”

The voice startled me. I turned—and there was Nico. He was standing a few feet away, hands in his coat pockets, looking as beautiful and tired as the city behind him.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling softly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I exhaled. “You did, though.”

“I came looking for you,” he admitted. “We didn’t talk after the party. And… after the news broke.”

I waved it off. “Don’t mention it. Just stupid reporters.”

“But it’s my fault too,” he said quietly.

“It’s really not. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Haven’t I?” His tone was almost bitter, and something in it made my chest tighten.

I shook my head. “You don’t get to blame yourself for other people’s messes.”

Nico could do no wrong. Ever. Same went for Adrian.

He smiled faintly, about to say something—but we were interrupted by a voice I’d rather never hear again.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely sight.”

Steve. And beside him—Jennifer, in a beige coat and perfect hair, smiling like she owned the air.

“What a surprise,” Steve continued, smirking. “The two lovebirds. Heard all about those rumors.”

I glared at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Jennifer raised an eyebrow. “That’s rude.”

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. But Steve didn’t stop.

“You know,” he said mockingly, “it’s funny, really. You spent years catching cheaters, and now you’re the one people cheat with. Life’s got a sense of irony, huh?”

That was it. That was my last straw.

“Oh, since you’re in the mood for honesty,” I snapped, stepping closer, “why don’t you tell your lovely Jennifer here about your financial fraud? Or that million-dollar loan you still hadn’t paid off?”

His smile died instantly. Jennifer blinked, confusion turned to anger.

“What is she talking about, Steve?”

He stammered something, but I didn’t wait to hear it. I grabbed Nico’s hand and walked away.