Princess Vittoria Olympia of the Romana Family of Olympus
By 4 PM, the castle felt less like a romantic seaside retreat and more like a high-security bunker.
The paparazzi hadn't just taken pictures; they'd set up camp somewhere along the public coastal trail half a mile out, equipped with telephoto lenses capable of capturing the thread count on my stolen sweater. Security guards in sleek black jackets were pacing the perimeter of the gardens, radio chatter crackling through the stone corridors every time a seagull moved too fast.
"They're using drones," Campbell said, standing by the massive leaded windows of his study. He had his hands jammed into the pockets of a fresh pair of trousers—dark, dry, and thoroughly respectable—and was staring out toward the treeline. "Two of them were spotted over the south lawn ten minutes ago. Security brought them down, but the damage is done."
