Chapter 5 - The House That Was Never Hers
I reached Palm Beach twenty-three minutes later.
Christian's car was outside.
Rebecca's wasn't.
The security team entered first.
No immediate threat.
I followed.
The house looked exactly as it had in Giselle's photographs.
That bothered me.
A champagne glass remained beside the kitchen sink.
A woman's scarf rested over a chair.
Giselle had left pieces of herself everywhere.
Christian stood in my office doorway.
Rebecca was inside.
He turned when he heard me.
“Camille.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She appeared frightened.
“Explain.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“General Dupont—”
“Camille.”
She swallowed.
“Camille. I contacted Christian.”
“Why?”
“Because I found something.”
She pointed toward the desk.
A flash drive.
Christian said, “Rebecca discovered unusual payments from the company.”
“To Julian?”
“Indirectly.”
Rebecca opened her laptop.
A series of transactions appeared.
Consulting fees.
Advisory retainers.
Property research.
Individually ordinary.
Together enormous.
“Who approved these?” I asked.
“Christian.”
I looked at him.
He nodded.
“I believed they were legitimate.”
“Of course you did.”
He absorbed that without defending himself.
Rebecca continued.
“Three weeks ago, I noticed the same vendor appearing through multiple subsidiaries. I started checking.”
“Why didn't you tell him?”
“I tried.”
Christian frowned.
“When?”
“The night you were with Giselle at the Marlowe.”
Silence.
Rebecca looked at me.
“I didn't know about the affair until then.”
Christian looked ashamed.
Good.
Rebecca continued.
“I followed the payments. They led to Mercer Advisory, but also to another holding company.”
“Owned by?”
“We don't know yet.”
I looked at the flash drive.
“And this?”
“Copies of the records.”
Christian stepped closer.
“I came here because Rebecca said Julian might have accessed your office through company credentials.”
“How?”
“He handled cybersecurity audits during the acquisition review.”
There it was.
A legitimate door.
Then an illegitimate use.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Why did the anonymous message say you've been helping him?”
Her face tightened.
“I don't know.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No.”
At least she was honest.
My phone rang.
Carver.
“Camille, we've identified the source of today's access attempt.”
“Julian?”
“No.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“Who?”
“Someone using a Dupont Enterprise device.”
Christian heard.
“So someone at my company.”
“Yes.”
Carver continued.
“And there's something else. The data they tried to access wasn't classified.”
Relief came first.
Then confusion.
“What was it?”
“Your personnel travel disclosures.”
“Why?”
“We're determining that.”
Travel.
My absences.
Someone wanted to know when I would be away.
That explained how Giselle's relationship with Christian had been managed so perfectly.
Someone had known my schedule.
I turned toward Rebecca.
“Who had access to Christian's calendar?”
“Me.”
“Anyone else?”
“His chief operating officer. Occasionally legal.”
“Did Julian?”
“During the merger review, yes.”
Christian sat down.
“He knew when Camille was gone.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“What?”
“He could tell Giselle when it was safe to use the house.”
My stomach turned.
Not because Julian had caused the affair.
He hadn't.
Christian had made those choices.
But Julian had weaponized them.
A dishonest husband was easier to manipulate than an honest one.
A jealous mistress was easier to manipulate than a secure partner.
He had studied weaknesses.
Then used them.
“Where is Giselle?” Rebecca asked.
“Saint Augustine.”
Christian stood.
“She shouldn't be alone.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“If Julian used her, she's a liability now.”
Before I could answer, Giselle called.
I put it on speaker.
“Camille?”
“Yes.”
“Someone is in the estate.”
Christian moved closer.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Where are the guests?”
“Mostly gone.”
“Wedding staff?”
“They left after the ceremony was canceled.”
Her breathing became audible.
“Giselle, go somewhere public.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“My car keys are missing.”
“Call security.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“No answer.”
Christian grabbed his jacket.
I stopped him.
“Wait.”
Giselle whispered, “I hear someone.”
Then silence.
“Giselle?”
Nothing.
“Giselle.”
A sound.
Footsteps.
Then her voice:
“Who's there?”
The call ended.
Christian was already moving.
We contacted local authorities and estate security while heading back.
Nobody spoke during the drive.
When we arrived, the property wasn't deserted.
Several staff members were near the entrance.
Giselle was safe.
Angry.
And holding a torn envelope.
She saw me and walked straight over.
“Someone went through the gift table.”
“What did they take?”
“I don't know.”
She handed me the envelope.
“My name was inside.”
Not on it.
Inside.
I opened it.
A sheet of paper.
A bank transfer confirmation.
Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.
Recipient:
Giselle.
Her face looked sick.
“I never received that money.”
Christian examined it.
“The account isn't yours?”
“No.”
“But it uses your name.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“This could make it look like Giselle was paid.”
“For what?” she demanded.
I already knew.
“For helping Julian.”
Giselle stared at me.
“He's framing me.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“You did photograph documents.”
“Because I was stupid.”
“That isn't a legal defense.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
That answer surprised me.
She sat down.
For the first time, Giselle looked nothing like the woman who had mocked me that morning.
Her wedding gown was wrinkled.
Mascara had begun to smudge.
Her veil was gone.
Her wedding was gone.
And the man she'd planned to marry was standing beside his actual wife.
“I hated you,” she said quietly.
I looked at her.
“In high school.”
“I know.”
“You never competed.”
“No.”
“That made it worse.”
Christian looked uncomfortable.
Giselle continued.
“When Christian told me who his wife was, I thought...”
She stopped.
“When did he tell you who I was?”
Her face changed.
Christian went still.
Giselle looked at him.
Then me.
“Six months ago.”
My chest tightened.
“You knew?”
“Not that you were still together.”
“But you knew he was married to me.”
“He said you were separated.”
I turned to Christian.
He looked destroyed.
“You told her my name.”
“Yes.”
“And she continued seeing you.”
Giselle stood.
“He said you hadn't lived as husband and wife in almost a year.”
“That was because I was deployed.”
“I know that now.”
I laughed softly.
Not because anything was funny.
“Remarkable.”
Giselle wiped her eyes.
“I wanted to believe him.”
“That doesn't make it true.”
“I know.”
For once, there was nothing else to say.
Then Rebecca noticed something.
“The transfer date.”
We looked.
Seven months earlier.
The same week Julian contacted Giselle.
Rebecca enlarged the account information.
“I've seen this routing number.”
“Where?”
“In Dupont Enterprise records.”
Christian stepped beside her.
She searched her laptop.
One match appeared.
A corporate reimbursement account.
Authorized signatory:
Christian Dupont.
Christian stared at the screen.
“I've never seen that account.”
Rebecca's face slowly changed.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because the person who opened it used your biometric authorization.”
Silence.
Christian looked at me.
I remembered the impersonated phone call.
Someone had copied his voice.
Could someone have forged more?
Rebecca opened another file.
A video authorization appeared.
Christian's face.
Christian's voice.
Christian approving the account.
But the man standing beside me whispered:
“I never recorded that.”
I watched the video again.
Something was wrong.
Then I saw it.
Christian always wore his watch on his right wrist.
In the authorization video, the green-faced watch was on his left.
The image had been reversed.
Manipulated.
I leaned closer.
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“Who submitted this video?”
She checked the metadata.
Her fingers stopped.
Christian asked, “Who?”
Rebecca looked at him.
Then at me.
“It came from inside the executive office.”
“Whose login?”
She swallowed.
Then she turned the screen toward us.
The username belonged to someone Christian trusted more than anyone in his company.
May you like
His younger brother.
Alexander Dupont.
