Chapter 9 - A Toast to the Dead
By morning, the villa had become a prison decorated as a palace.
Philippe claimed the security system had malfunctioned.
The gates would not open.
The landlines were dead.
The boats had been moved from the dock.
Elise’s supposed police call had not connected.
Someone had intercepted it.
The guests were told that heavy storms had damaged regional communication systems.
Margaret knew this was a lie.
The sky was clear.
At breakfast, Hélène behaved as though nothing had happened.
She instructed the staff to prepare the engagement dinner.
She confirmed flower deliveries.
She reviewed seating arrangements.
The performance was so complete that Claire began to doubt her own memory.
Margaret tried to speak with her.
Claire refused.
“I need time.”
“We may not have time.”
“Then perhaps you should have given me more than one night to understand my entire life.”
Margaret accepted the blow.
She had earned it.
Luca stayed beside Claire.
His loyalty infuriated Philippe, who summoned him to the study.
“You are humiliating this family.”
Luca closed the door.
“This family humiliated itself long before Claire arrived.”
“You heard fragments and invented a conspiracy.”
“I heard you call Étienne a traitor.”
“He was unstable.”
“He discovered something.”
Philippe poured brandy despite the early hour.
“Your brother fell into drugs and paranoia.”
“You said he took a boat.”
“He did.”
“Then why did you tell Margaret someone dealt with him?”
Philippe stopped pouring.
Luca watched him.
“I was outside Room Thirteen before the alarm,” Luca said. “I heard more than you think.”
Philippe set down the bottle.
“Your brother tried to blackmail dangerous people.”
“Who?”
“You do not need to know.”
“They killed him.”
“I did everything I could to save him.”
“Is he dead?”
Philippe looked away.
Luca’s heart began pounding.
“Father.”
“I never saw a body.”
“Is he alive?”
“I do not know.”
“You told us he drowned.”
“That was the safest story.”
“For whom?”
“For you.”
Luca stepped closer.
“What happened that night?”
Philippe’s face seemed to age.
“Étienne stole a file. He planned to take it to the authorities. Your mother discovered him. They argued. He fled to the dock.”
“And then?”
“People were waiting.”
“Black Rose?”
Philippe stared at him.
“Do not say that name.”
“What did they do?”
“They took him.”
Luca’s voice broke.
“You let them?”
“I had no choice.”
“You always say that.”
“You do not understand power.”
“I understand cowardice.”
Philippe slapped him.
Luca staggered.
For a moment, both men stared at each other.
Philippe whispered, “I kept you alive.”
Luca touched his bleeding lip.
“Perhaps you only kept me useful.”
He left the study.
In the west salon, Margaret and Elise examined the microfilm beneath a portable magnifying lens.
It contained rows of numbers and initials.
Bank transfers.
Account codes.
Dates.
One date appeared repeatedly.
The date of the château fire.
Another appeared twelve years later.
The date Étienne disappeared.
Claire entered.
She stopped when she saw the microfilm.
“That was inside my locket?”
Margaret nodded.
Claire closed the door.
“Tell me everything.”
Margaret began with her real name.
She told Claire about the Laurent family, Thomas, the fire, the hidden tunnel, and the threats.
She described the years of hiding.
She admitted that Thomas had continued investigating without telling her.
Claire listened in silence.
When Margaret explained that Philippe and Hélène had once called her sister, Claire looked toward the window.
“Why did you never speak French around me?”
“Because language felt like a door. I was afraid someone would hear me open it.”
“Did Dad know everything?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know he might be killed?”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“He believed he could stop them before they reached us.”
Claire looked at the locket.
“He hid this on a child.”
“He thought it was the safest place.”
“It was not.”
“No.”
Claire wiped her eyes.
“Did you know Luca’s identity before we came?”
“I discovered it when you showed me the invitation.”
“You still came.”
“I needed to know whether your relationship was arranged.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“You suspected Luca?”
“I suspected everyone.”
“Do you still?”
Margaret looked through the glass doors.
Outside, Luca stood alone beside the lake.
“No.”
Claire followed her gaze.
“Neither do I.”
Elise cleared her throat.
“There is something else.”
She pointed to a series of initials on the microfilm.
P.B.
H.B.
E.B.
L.B.
Claire frowned.
“Those are the Beaumonts.”
Margaret examined the dates beside Luca’s initials.
The first payment connected to L.B. had been made twenty-seven years earlier.
Two years before Luca was born.
“That is impossible,” Margaret said.
Elise looked at her.
“Unless L.B. does not mean Luca Beaumont.”
At that moment, Hélène entered.
She carried a tray with four glasses of champagne.
Her smile was calm.
“Tonight is an engagement dinner,” she said. “Whatever private misunderstandings occurred last night, our guests must not hear of them.”
Claire stared at her.
“You expect us to sit at dinner and pretend?”
“I expect all of us to protect Luca.”
“From what?”
Hélène placed the tray on the table.
“The consequences of knowing too much.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“You were always good at disguising threats as advice.”
Hélène’s eyes moved to the microfilm.
Then to Claire’s locket.
“Wear something beautiful tonight,” she told Claire. “There will be photographs.”
She left.
Elise looked at the champagne.
“Do not drink that.”
Margaret picked up one glass and smelled it.
A faint bitter scent rose from the bubbles.
She set it down.
Claire whispered, “What is it?”
May you like
Margaret looked toward the closed door.
“Something meant to make one of us forget.”
