Vincent’s pov
I sat completely alone, staring blankly into the cold stone fireplace. The grand house felt incredibly empty now that the security guards and the forensic teams had cleared out for the evening. I was feeling completely bad about Wyatt and everything that had transpired over the past forty-eight hours. My chest felt tight with a profound sorrow as I remembered my brother’s laugh, and the realization that his fatal accident was actually a cold, planned execution shattered my world entirely.
Suddenly, a soft, frantic knock came from the door.
I stood up from my leather armchair, my muscles stiff from hours of sitting in the dark. I walked across and unlocked the glass paned door, pulling it open with a cautious hand.
It was Camilla. Her coat was completely soaked from the ev
