Camilla's POV
I returned to the penthouse exhausted.
The day had been long and unproductive. I'd sat at my desk for most of it trying to focus on work while my mind kept pulling me back to Vincent — where he was, what he was doing, who he was talking to.
The accident had created an opening I'd moved into quickly and carefully, and for a brief period it had felt like solid ground. Vincent didn't remember Rachel, didn't remember their marriage or anything at all that could turn him against me.
I was sure that I had everything out of control.
Now I could feel it shifting under my feet.
I stepped out of the private elevator and looked around the penthouse. The evening sun was coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows at a low angle and spreading across the furniture in wide golden pan
