Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN WHO BUILT THE TRAP
Camille remained standing beside her apartment window, the phone pressed tightly against her ear.
“Receivership?” she repeated.
Diane's breathing was uneven.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Through a debt covenant.”
Camille frowned.
“Asterion doesn't owe Northbridge anything.”
“Not directly.”
“Then explain.”
Diane hesitated.
“Seven months ago, Victor arranged for one of Asterion's suppliers to assign its receivables to a private financing company.”
Camille felt her stomach tighten.
“Which supplier?”
“MedCore Logistics.”
She recognized the name.
MedCore supplied specialized hardware used in Asterion's hospital equipment systems.
The company handled millions of euros in annual contracts.
“Those invoices are ordinary operating expenses,” Camille said.
“Not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Victor's company acquired the debt. Then he arranged additional financing through a series of linked agreements.”
Camille closed her eyes.
She understood the broad outline.
If someone controlled a strategically important creditor and could manufacture or exploit a contractual default, they might create enormous pressure on Asterion.
But that still didn't explain why Julien needed thirty-two percent.
“Where do my shares fit?”
Diane's voice became quieter.
“The marriage agreement was supposed to give Julien enough influence to challenge certain board decisions. Victor expected him to cooperate with an emergency financing proposal.”
Camille felt cold.
“And the proposal would give Victor control?”
“Yes.”
“Through Northbridge?”
“Through a separate acquisition vehicle.”
Camille gripped the phone.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Diane began crying again.
“Because Victor lied to me.”
Camille's expression hardened.
“You helped steal from my mother. You helped Julien manipulate me. And now you want sympathy because your partner betrayed you?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To stop him.”
Camille was silent.
Diane continued.
“I know you hate me.”
“You have no idea.”
“I deserve that.”
“Then tell me everything.”
For several seconds, Diane said nothing.
Then she began.
Eleven years earlier, Diane had been a junior financial analyst working under Victor Lemaire.
She was twenty-nine, ambitious, and struggling to support her younger brother after their parents died.
Victor had offered her a promotion.
A salary she couldn't refuse.
And responsibilities far beyond her experience.
At first, the work appeared legitimate.
She prepared reports.
Reviewed investment portfolios.
Assisted with the Mercier accounts.
Then she discovered unexplained transfers.
Money moving through subsidiaries.
Invoices for services that had never been provided.
Accounts controlled by companies with no employees.
When she questioned Victor, he told her the transactions were part of a confidential restructuring.
She believed him.
Or wanted to.
Then Étienne Mercier was accused of embezzlement.
Diane knew something was wrong.
She had seen records suggesting Étienne wasn't responsible for all the missing funds.
But Victor warned her that speaking up would destroy her career.
He also reminded her that she had signed several transaction approvals.
Approvals he had instructed her to prepare.
If the fraud was exposed, she could be implicated.
Diane remained silent.
And an innocent man may have paid the price.
Camille listened without interrupting.
“Where does Julien enter the story?”
Diane took a shaky breath.
“After his father's conviction, Julien became obsessed with proving the Delcourts had destroyed his family.”
“Did Victor encourage him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Julien was useful.”
Camille closed her eyes.
Victor had apparently understood something dangerous.
A grieving son seeking revenge could become a weapon.
Especially if he believed he was fighting for justice.
“Victor told Julien that your father had stolen the money and framed Étienne,” Diane continued.
“Was that true?”
“I don't think so.”
“Then why didn't you tell Julien?”
“Because I was afraid.”
Camille's voice hardened.
“People keep saying that as though fear excuses everything.”
Diane fell silent.
Camille continued.
“My mother tried to uncover the truth. My father lost years believing the wrong story. Julien spent his life chasing revenge. And you helped Victor keep the lie alive.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Diane began crying.
“I do now.”
Camille leaned against the wall.
“What happened on November seventeenth?”
The silence lasted so long that Camille thought the call had disconnected.
Finally, Diane answered.
“Your mother confronted us.”
“Who?”
“Julien and me.”
“About the Saint-Clair transfer?”
“Yes.”
Camille's heart pounded.
“Did you steal twelve million euros?”
“No.”
“Diane.”
“We prepared the transfer. Victor controlled the destination account. But your mother discovered the authorization before the money was released.”
Camille frowned.
“The statement shows it went through.”
“It did. But the funds were frozen later.”
“By whom?”
“Your mother.”
Camille straightened.
“Where is the money?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I'm not lying.”
Diane's voice broke.
“Victor has spent seven years trying to find it.”
Camille stared at the wall.
Twelve million euros.
Money her mother had apparently moved beyond Victor's reach.
Money nobody had been able to locate.
“Why didn't Mom tell my father?”
“Because she believed Victor had someone inside the family office.”
Camille remembered the recovered warning.
Someone inside the family.
“Was that person Victor?”
“No.”
Camille froze.
“Who?”
Diane whispered:
“I never learned the name.”
Camille closed her eyes.
“Then tell me what happened after Mom confronted you.”
Diane took a breath.
“She threatened to report everything. Victor begged her to wait. He said exposing the fraud would destroy innocent employees and investors.”
“Did she believe him?”
“No.”
“What happened next?”
“She became ill.”
Camille's stomach tightened.
“Are you saying Victor caused her illness?”
“I don't know.”
“Diane.”
“I swear, Camille. I don't know.”
The woman's voice trembled.
“But I know Victor visited her at the hospital.”
Camille froze.
“When?”
“The night before she died.”
Camille remembered that night.
She had been twenty-six.
She had fallen asleep in a chair beside her mother's bed.
A nurse had persuaded her to go home for a few hours.
When Camille returned the next morning, Madeleine's condition had deteriorated dramatically.
Doctors said the infection had overwhelmed her weakened body.
Camille had never questioned them.
Now she felt sick.
“Why would Victor visit her?”
“I don't know.”
“Did he tell anyone?”
“No.”
Camille looked toward the photograph of her mother on the bookshelf.
“Do you have proof?”
Diane hesitated.
“Yes.”
Camille straightened.
“What proof?”
“A recording.”
Her heart pounded.
“Of what?”
“The meeting on November seventeenth.”
Camille nearly dropped the phone.
“Where is it?”
“I have a copy.”
“Send it to my attorney.”
“I can't send it electronically.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor's people are monitoring my accounts.”
Camille considered her options.
“Then we'll arrange a secure transfer through counsel.”
Diane began speaking rapidly.
“No. I need to see you.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Camille, please.”
“No. You can give it to the police.”
Diane was silent.
Then she whispered:
“There's something else on the recording.”
Camille closed her eyes.
“What?”
“Your mother mentions a child.”
Camille frowned.
“A child?”
“Yes.”
“Whose child?”
Diane's breathing became uneven.
“I didn't understand it at the time.”
“Diane.”
“Madeleine said Victor had been hiding someone's identity for more than twenty years.”
Camille felt a sudden chill.
“What identity?”
Diane began crying.
May you like
Then she whispered:
“She said Julien wasn't Étienne Mercier's biological son.”
