I leaned back in my Italian leather chair, tapping my pen against the polished mahogany desk. Across from me sat Levi, my private investigator and one of the few people I trusted implicitly with the messier parts of my life.
"There is still nothing new on Camilla," Levi said, breaking the silence. He adjusted his cuffs, his expression entirely neutral. "She is keeping her distance from everything that could connect her to us. Her routine is incredibly tight. She goes from her office straight home, or she goes to see Vincent. There are no gaps, no sudden detours, and no unusual meetings."
I sighed, setting the pen down. "She is being wise. She knows one wrong move will expose whatever she is planning next." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. "Is there any way we can bug her
