Chapter 11 - The Wife Who Finally SpokeIsabelle Delacroix had lived beside Victor for thirty-two years.
She knew his habits.
His moods.
His silences.
She knew when he was lying.
And she knew when he was afraid.
For most of their marriage, she had chosen not to ask questions.
It was easier that way.
Easier to host dinners.
Easier to wear beautiful clothes.
Easier to pretend that the money funding their comfortable life had been earned honestly.
But Claire had changed everything.
When Claire appeared at Isabelle's home asking about her adoption, Isabelle recognized the necklace around her neck.
The little silver heart.
She remembered Victor bringing it home twenty-nine years earlier.
He had told her it belonged to a child who needed protection.
She had believed him.
Or perhaps she had wanted to.
Now Claire was asking questions.
And Isabelle could no longer pretend.
She had met Claire at the clinic.
She had told her the truth about the hospital.
She had confessed that Victor arranged the adoption.
And she had warned Claire that Henri Beaumont was investigating.
But when Claire began searching for evidence, Victor discovered what they were doing.
Isabelle had taken Claire to the remote house near Chambéry.
She believed it would be safe.
She was wrong.
Victor arrived two days later.
He demanded that Claire surrender the documents she had collected.
Claire refused.
Isabelle stood between them.
For the first time in thirty-two years, she openly defied her husband.
“Leave her alone.”
Victor stared at her.
“You have no idea what you're doing.”
“I know exactly what I'm doing.”
“She'll destroy everything.”
Isabelle shook her head.
“No, Victor. You already did that.”
Victor's face hardened.
“You think you're innocent?”
Isabelle looked away.
“No.”
She had helped him hide the adoption.
She had lied to Claire.
She had remained silent while Genevieve mourned a living daughter.
And she had accepted the comforts of a life built on other people's suffering.
But she would not let Victor hurt Claire.
Not now.
Not again.
When Victor threatened to take Claire away, Isabelle secretly called the police.
She gave them the location.
Then she helped Claire escape through the rear door.
They drove toward the mountains.
But Victor followed.
By the time investigators reached the house, the women were gone.
Now they were hiding in a roadside motel.
Claire sat beside the window.
Her hands trembled.
Isabelle watched her.
“You should rest.”
Claire shook her head.
“I want to see my mother.”
Isabelle looked down.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
The question hurt.
Isabelle nodded.
“I know I have no right to ask you to believe me.”
Claire stared at her.
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me grow up.”
“Yes.”
“You visited my adoptive parents.”
Isabelle began crying.
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
“I was afraid.”
Claire looked away.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Isabelle lowered her head.
Claire continued.
“Do you know what it's like to grow up believing your parents didn't want you?”
Isabelle shook her head.
“No.”
“I used to imagine them.”
Her voice broke.
“I imagined my mother was kind. I imagined my father was funny. I imagined they had a good reason for leaving me.”
Isabelle began sobbing.
Claire wiped her eyes.
“Then I found out they thought I was dead.”
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Finally, Isabelle whispered, “I'm sorry.”
Claire looked at her.
“Then help me tell the truth.”
Isabelle nodded.
“I will.”
She reached into her handbag and removed a small recorder.
Claire frowned.
“What is that?”
“A recording of Victor.”
“When?”
“The night Henri died.”
Claire froze.
Isabelle swallowed.
“I was afraid he might hurt someone. So I recorded their conversation.”
Claire stared.
“Did you hear what happened?”
Isabelle's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Claire leaned forward.
“Then tell me.”
Isabelle shook her head.
“You need to hear it yourself.”
She pressed play.
Victor's voice filled the room.
“Henri, you can't release those documents.”
Henri answered.
“People died because of us.”
Victor's voice hardened.
“You signed the papers.”
“I signed documents you falsified.”
“You'll destroy the company.”
“Then the company deserves to fall.”
A long silence.
Then Victor spoke again.
“What about Genevieve? What about Alexandre?”
Henri answered quietly.
“They deserve the truth.”
There was a sound of glass touching wood.
Then Henri said something that made Claire stop breathing.
“Why does this taste strange?”
Victor did not answer.
A chair scraped.
Henri gasped.
Then the recording captured one final exchange.
“Victor... what have you done?”
May you like
Victor's voice was cold.
“What I should have done twenty-eight years ago.”
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