“Don’t confront Marc alone,” Claire said in a low voice. “From this point on, every word matters. Keep every document, write down the times, protect Leo, and above all, don’t let Marc realize too early that you know.”
Camille closed her eyes for a moment. Outside, in the garden, Marc was walking near the cherry tree with his phone pressed to his ear, laughing softly as if he were planning dinner, a weekend away, a new life. For years, that laugh had sounded familiar. That morning, it sounded dangerous.
“What do I do first?” Camille asked.
“First, we revoke the power of attorney. Today. Before he tries to use it. Then we notify the banks officially, block suspicious transactions, file a complaint, and request emergency protective measures. The specialist is coming with me.”
Camille looked at the envelope on the table.
“And the notarial deed?”
Claire inhaled.
“That is the most worrying part. Based on the photo you sent me, Marc had prepared the transfer of part of your assets into a structure.”
“What structure?”
“A recently created real estate investment company.”
Camille’s fingers stiffened.
“In whose name?”
There was a brief silence.
“In Élodie Martin’s name.”
Camille went completely still. This was no longer just about money. It was not only betrayal. It was a cold, calculated attempt to take everything she had built before she ever met Marc: the house she had purchased with her own work, her investments, her security, her son’s future, the life she had constructed stone by stone while he smiled beside her. Camille did not cry. Something inside her hardened.
“Claire,” she said quietly. “I want to do everything properly.”
“Then that is exactly what we will do.”
When she ended the call, Marc entered the kitchen. He was still holding his phone. Still smiling.
“Who was that?”
Camille calmly slipped the envelope into a drawer.
“A client. Last-minute problem.”
“Again?” he said, pretending concern. “You work too much, darling. It’s good you’re leaving tomorrow. A change of scenery will help you.”
Camille looked up at him. Never before had “darling” sounded so empty.
“Yes,” she replied. “Maybe.”
Marc stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. She did not move away. Not yet.
“I’m going to take Leo to school,” he said. “I have errands in town afterward.”
Camille smiled faintly.
“That’s not necessary. I’ll take him.”
For the first time that morning, Marc’s smile flickered.
“Don’t you have a meeting?”
“I canceled it. I want to spend time with my son before I leave.”
Marc stared at her a second too long.
“Fine,” he said at last.
Camille knew then that he was beginning to suspect something. But it was already too late for him. Half an hour later, outside the school, she crouched in front of Leo.
“My love, listen carefully. Today, Aunt Claire will pick you up. You’ll sleep at her house with me tonight, okay?”
Leo’s eyes widened.
“Did Dad do something bad?”
Camille felt her heart tighten. She wanted to say no. She wanted to protect the image of his father inside him. But too many lies had already poisoned their home.
“Dad made some very bad choices,” she said, touching his cheek. “But none of this is your fault. You were very brave to tell me the truth.”
Leo hugged her tightly.
“I was scared he would hurt you.”
Camille closed her eyes and held her son close.
“You saved me, my love.”
By ten o’clock, Camille was in a notary’s office with Claire and Maître Antoine Morel, a lawyer specializing in inheritance and estate law. The notary confirmed that the power of attorney could be revoked immediately. He also confirmed that an attempt had indeed been made to use it in connection with an asset transfer. But Marc had missed one important detail. Camille had signed shortly after surgery, while under heavy treatment, in a medically documented state of exhaustion and vulnerability. There were serious grounds to challenge the validity of her consent, especially if they could prove she had been misled. More importantly, the planned operation had left traces. And Camille knew how to read financial traces better than anyone.
