Bound By Wrath

The second gift

Angelo stared at the screen, his body still. Someone had set him up.

Now he was completely sure that Camille finding the household registry was no coincidence at all. Someone led her there deliberately.

He typed back to the unknown number. “Who are you?”

The person replied instantly. “Don't worry Angelo, you’ll find out sooner than you expect. And—watch out for my second gift.” A winking emoji at the end.

Angelo's fist curled, his jaw clenching. Someone had discovered his cover identity and was threatening to blow it. Six years of planning could not go down the drain like this. He quickly texted Marco. “I sent you a number. Track it and find out who it is. My identity is at risk.” Then he went back to his room.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall.

Who knew? Marco was the only person who knew he was Angelo Martinez. Marco, and whoever Marco had told. He had trusted that list was short. He was beginning to think he'd been wrong about that.

Thirty minutes later, his phone buzzed. It was Marco.

“The number is a burner. Totally untraceable. Still working on it though.”

He set the phone down and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Whoever this was, they weren't an amateur. They'd found the registry, planted it where Camille would look, and timed the text perfectly. They wanted him rattled. But he refused to be.

He set an alarm for five and forced himself to sleep.

—------

The next morning, he was up before the alarm went off. Camille's plane would land by nine, and he needed to be at the airport before she even came down from the plane. He had one shot to control this before it spiraled.

He moved through his morning routine fast—shower, clothes, and checked his phone every second. Nothing new from Marco and nothing yet from the unknown number.

He went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast before he left.

He met a woman, her back facing the door, standing by the counter.

She looked up when he came in and smiled warmly.

“Oh, Luca. You're up extra early today.”

“Yeah, I have somewhere to be later today, so I thought to make breakfast on time.” He reached for a mug on the cabinet above the counter. “I didn't know you were back, Mrs Diane. How are you feeling now?”

“Much better, thank you for asking.” She waved her left hand slightly. “Miss Ashley told me to rest for the week, but I've been sitting at home idle and it's driving me crazy. Plus, I didn't want Olivia madam to yell at Ashley for letting me go for such a long time.” She chuckled softly.

She turned back to the trays she was arranging, “Are you going far?”

“Yeah, kinda. I have to pick someone up at the airport. The flight will land by nine.” He said and switched on the coffee machine.

“Oh, there's enough time. Let's quickly make breakfast, so you can leave before Olivia madam finds an excuse to keep you here for the rest of the day.”

“Sure, you care for some coffee?”

“No, I'm good.”

They made breakfast in silence afterwards, only speaking when necessary or acknowledging with nods.

They finished preparing the breakfast by seven thirty, and Angelo left for the airport before anyone else came down.

His cab came to pick him up. The airport was an hour drive from the Navarro estate and he used that moment to think.

Camille Morin had spent two years refusing to believe her brother was dead. She booked a nine hour flight from Paris to see someone whose identity she found on paper trails. That kind of determination didn't fold easily over a phone call. He needed to see her face to face and give her nowhere to land emotionally.

He arrived at the airport at eight thirty five. The plane landed at nine fifteen. People came through the doors, but Angelo could not recognize Camille. They'd never met before.

He waited for the crowd to dissipate, then he picked up his phone and called her.

She answered on the first ring.

“Where are you?” Angelo asked through the phone.

“I just landed, why?” She said in her rich french accent.

“I'm at the airport, I just saw your plane landing and people are already out. Can you wave so I can come to you?”

“Hui.” She replied.

Angelo looked up and saw a tall beautiful lady, waving, her eyes scanning the crowd with desperate hope, her phone still in her left hand.

Angelo got out of the car and crossed the terminal.

She saw him before he reached her and removed the phone from her ears. Her eyes went wide, her mouth opened, and then her face broke into a joyful smile and she stepped forward and wrapped both arms around him before he could say a single word.

“Luca,” She said into his shoulder, half sob. “Luca.”

Angelo was completely still, both hands still at his sides and said nothing.

She pulled back and held his face in both hands, her eyes moving across every feature like she was mapping him, making sure he was real. “You look different.” She whispered. “But it's you. I knew it was you.”

“Camille.” He said, carefully removing her hands from his face. “I told you on the phone, there's a mistake.

Her expression stiffened. “Stop it. I know my brother's face.”

“That's your brother's name Camille, Luca Morin.” He kept his voice gentle. “I'm not him.”

She stared at him, a doubt moving across her eyes.

“I think whoever put that employment record where you found it wanted you to.” He said calmly.

“Someone used your brother's name on purpose and made you come here for whatever reason unknown to me. And I'm sorry for that Camille, honestly. But I can't be who you want me to be.”

Camille's heart squeezed painfully in her chest. Her chin trembled, she looked down, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Then who are you?” She asked finally, her voice very small.

“Just the man that would make sure that you got here safely, and to make sure you get home the same way too.”

He took her to the hotel he'd booked on his way to the airport, carried her suitcase to the lobby and arranged her return flight at the front desk without letting her see the name on his card.

He watched her for a moment from across the lobby. A woman who had crossed an ocean of hope, now sitting in a hotel chair, hands folded on her laps and stared at the floor helplessly.

He had stolen the name of a man who had a sister who loved him enough to never stop looking.

He turned and walked out before he could think about it any longer.

It was the second hardest thing he'd done in six years.

When he was sure she had settled down, he went back to the estate in silence.

He arrived at six in the evening. The house was empty as usual when he went in, only the sound of television was heard from Hailey's bedroom.

He went straight to his room. He was pulling off his jacket when he heard footsteps outside his room.

He went to the door quietly and pulled it open.

The hallway was empty.

He looked left and right. No one was there.

He was about to step back inside when he noticed a small red envelope on the door handle.

Someone had slipped it there.

No name, no stamp. Nothing

He stood for a moment, looking at it, then he picked it up.

Inside was a single photograph. Glossy and printed cleanly.

The photo was of him. Standing outside the Navarro front gate on the night before he first arrived. Before he assumed the identity of Luca.

He turned it over.

On the back, in a small,neat handwriting:

“I've known who you are since the beginning and what they did to your family. The question is—what's it worth to you for me to keep quiet? But don't worry, your secret is safe with me. For now.”

Angelo turned the photograph over slowly, and looked at it again. He felt the ground shift under his feet. He thought he had everything under control.

Someone inside this house knew exactly who he was.

And they had been watching him from the very first night.