She looked up, her gray eyes locking onto mine with sudden intensity.

“Camille’s father has entered the city,” she said.

Adrian stiffened, his knuckles turning white against the edge of the table.

“Richard Hart?”

“Yes,” Isabella said. “He arrived two hours ago on a private flight from New York.”

“Why?” I asked, feeling a cold dread settle deep in my chest.

“He is not here to support Salvatore,” Isabella said. “He is here to secure his daughter’s interests.”

“Camille wants the children,” Adrian said, his voice flat and hard.

“She wants the inheritance,” Isabella corrected. “And she knows Salvatore will never hand over the empire to her unless she controls the heirs.”

She tapped the tablet again.

Two photographs appeared side by side on the screen.

One was Salvatore Vale, his face lined with age but his eyes sharp and cruel.

The other was Richard Hart, a silver-haired man in a dark, tailored suit.

“They are meeting tonight at the Drake Hotel,” Isabella said.

“To coordinate?” Adrian asked.

“To combine their forces,” Isabella said. “Richard brought his own private security detail from New York. They are blending their networks to hunt you down.”