Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Knew Everything
Christian's phone went offline.
I didn't rush blindly toward the location.
That was what whoever controlled the messages expected.
I contacted Carver.
Local authorities were already moving.
The storage facility belonged to a Dupont subsidiary and had been unused for two years.
Giselle insisted on coming.
I refused again.
This time she didn't argue.
“Then take this.”
She handed me the original envelope.
I examined it.
“Why?”
“Alexander asked for it.”
“Which means?”
“Maybe there's something we missed.”
She was right.
I opened it again.
Transfer confirmation.
Nothing else.
Then I ran my finger along the interior.
A second layer.
I tore the seam carefully.
A microSD card slid into my palm.
Giselle stared.
“That was inside?”
“Yes.”
Neither of us touched it further.
I passed it to security personnel for controlled examination.
Twenty minutes later, we had the answer.
Audio files.
Recorded conversations.
Julian and Alexander.
Alexander and Giselle.
Christian and Julian.
Months of them.
Someone had been documenting everything.
But who?
The final file answered that question.
A woman's voice.
Rebecca.
“I know what you're doing, Alexander.”
Then Alexander:
“You know nothing.”
“I know enough.”
“You work for my brother.”
“I work for the company.”
“And who do you think owns the company?”
“Not you.”
The recording ended.
Rebecca had known.
Not everything.
But enough to start collecting evidence.
I called her.
She answered immediately.
“You recorded them.”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“Because I didn't know who I could trust.”
“Why hide the card in Giselle's envelope?”
“I didn't.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“I stored the recordings on an encrypted drive at the office.”
“Then who copied them?”
“I don't know.”
Another player.
Or someone trying to expose the existing ones.
Carver's people traced Christian's last signal.
Near the waterfront facility.
I went there with proper support.
No dramatic confrontation waited inside.
Christian was sitting on a loading platform.
Alive.
Uninjured.
Alexander was gone.
I walked toward him.
Christian looked up.
Relief crossed his face.
“Camille.”
“Where is your brother?”
“He left.”
“Why didn't you stop him?”
“He told me something.”
I waited.
Christian stood.
“Alexander knew about Giselle before Julian did.”
“How?”
“He saw messages on my phone.”
Of course.
The weakness began with Christian.
Everything returned there.
“He approached Julian?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
Christian laughed bitterly.
“My brother has been hiding losses for years.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
“And the acquisition?”
“A way to cover them.”
“Using your company.”
“Yes.”
“And me?”
His face changed.
“Alexander discovered the ownership protections tied to our marriage. He needed your signature for parts of the transfer.”
“So he encouraged your affair?”
Christian looked sick.
“He didn't create it.”
“No.”
“I did that.”
“Good. Keep remembering.”
He nodded.
“But once he knew, he helped me hide it.”
Travel schedules.
Calendar information.
The perfect weekends for Christian to bring Giselle into my home.
Alexander hadn't created Christian's betrayal.
He had simply made it useful.
“Where did he go?”
“I don't know.”
Authorities searched the property.
No Alexander.
No Julian.
But inside an office, they found documents prepared for signature.
Property transfer.
Company authorizations.
Divorce settlement drafts.
Some genuine.
Some altered.
All designed to create confusion.
Christian looked at them.
“I almost signed some of these.”
“You did sign some.”
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“I nearly destroyed everything.”
I looked at him.
“You destroyed enough.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
That evening, Alexander was located at an airport before boarding an international flight.
Julian was detained for questioning later that night based on evidence connected to financial fraud and unauthorized access.
The investigation would take months.
Perhaps years.
But the immediate threat was over.
The personal damage wasn't.
I returned to the Palm Beach house after midnight.
Christian arrived later.
He stopped in the doorway.
“Can I come in?”
The question was almost absurd.
Legally, yes.
Emotionally, no.
“Five minutes.”
He entered.
No tuxedo now.
No boutonniere.
No green-faced watch.
I noticed.
“Where is it?”
He looked at his wrist.
“I took it off.”
“Why?”
“Because I finally understood what it represented.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“It represented something real when I gave it to you. You changed what it meant afterward.”
Christian's eyes filled.
“I love you.”
“I believe you.”
That surprised him.
I continued.
“I also believe you loved being admired by Giselle. I believe you loved having someone available when I wasn't. I believe you loved avoiding difficult choices.”
He lowered his head.
“Love wasn't the problem, Christian.”
“What was?”
“Character.”
He looked as though I had struck him.
I hadn't.
“I'll do anything.”
“No.”
“Camille—”
“You don't get to turn my healing into your assignment.”
He went silent.
“I want a divorce.”
His eyes closed.
A tear finally slipped down his face.
I felt pain.
Real pain.
But no uncertainty.
“Okay.”
That one word was the first respectful thing he'd given me all day.
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The woman who gave you the envelope.”
I looked at him.
“What about her?”
“Alexander told me who she was.”
My pulse shifted.
“Who?”
Christian turned.
“Her name is Evelyn Shaw.”
I didn't recognize it.
“Should I know her?”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“But your father did.”
My body went still.
My father had been dead for eleven years.
“What does she have to do with him?”
Christian reached into his pocket.
He removed a photograph.
Old.
Faded.
My father stood beside a young woman.
Evelyn.
On the back was handwriting I recognized immediately.
My father's.
One sentence.
May you like
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, GIVE THIS TO CAMILLE.
And beneath it was an address.
