Chapter 6 - The Midnight Raid
Camille looked at the documents, her hands steadying as a cold, sharp determination replaced her grief.
"Preston didn't find the real evidence," Camille said, looking up into Lorenzo's eyes. "He thought it was in the auction house archive. But my father didn't keep his most critical files in a commercial vault."
Lorenzo leaned in. "Where are they?"
"Inside the Saint Louis Cemetery Number One," Camille revealed. "In our family vault. Hidden inside the false ceiling of my great-grandfather's tomb."
Lorenzo stood up immediately, snapping his fingers. His chief enforcer, a muscular man named Marco, stepped into the study.
"Gather six men," Lorenzo ordered Marco. "We go to Saint Louis Cemetery immediately."
"Wait," Camille said, standing up alongside him. "Saint Louis Number One is locked at night. The perimeter is monitored by private security—hired by the city."
"I own half the security guards in this city, Camille," Lorenzo smiled coldly.
"And Preston Whitfield owns the other half," Camille countered. "If Preston realizes I left the auction house with you, he knows the cemetery is the only place left for me to go. He'll already have men there."
May you like
Lorenzo looked at her, the sharp intelligence in her eyes matching his own. "Then we don't go as visitors. We go as a storm."
Fifteen minutes later, three black SUVs tore through the quiet, rain-slicked streets of the French Quarter, heading directly toward the white stone walls of New Orleans' oldest cemetery.
