Chapter 2: Shadows on the Quayside**
The rear exit of the bank opened onto a narrow cobblestone alley slick with October mist. Laurent guided Camille through a service tunnel connecting the vault to an underground wine cellar.
"Keep your hood up," he whispered, pressing a folded transit pass into her gloved hand. "Take the night ferry to Évian. Do not use cards. Do not speak to anyone wearing a silver pin on their lapel."
"Where is he, Monsieur Laurent?" Camille’s voice was barely audible above the hum of the city's storm drains. "He told me he’d be waiting on Platform 4."
Laurent paused, kneeling so his eyes were level with hers. For the first time, he didn't see an heiress carrying a fortune—he saw an exhausted child holding back an ocean of tears. "Arthur made many enemies by doing what was right, Camille. He spent his life guarding other people's futures. Now, he's trusting you to finish his work."
A muffled metallic clang echoed from the upper vault doors behind them. Heavy boots hit the stone stairs.
"Go!" Laurent urged, shutting the steel blast door between them and locking it from the inside.
Camille ran. Her small leather flats made soft slaps against the damp pavement. She emerged onto the promenade along Lake Geneva, the icy Alpine wind stinging her cheeks. Behind her, the reflection of blue emergency beacons flickered across the lake's surface.
She clutched the brass key around her neck beneath her wool scarf. Her father’s voice echoed in her memory: *“When the world gets dark, little bird, you don't run from the storm. You become the lighthouse.”*
May you like
She boarded the late-night passenger ferry just as the horn bellowed into the fog, disappearing into the black water.
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