Chapter 7 - THE GRANDMOTHER'S CONFESSIONCamille slowly turned toward Geneviève.
Her grandmother sat beside the window, her face drained of color.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Camille held up the phone.
“Tell me this isn't true.”
Geneviève looked at the message.
Her lips parted.
But no words came.
Camille felt something inside her collapse.
“You deleted the security footage?”
Geneviève closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
The answer was almost inaudible.
Camille stepped backward.
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Geneviève began trembling.
“Of losing you.”
Camille shook her head.
“That's what everyone says.”
Thomas moved closer.
“Geneviève, you need to explain exactly what happened.”
She looked at him.
“I didn't erase the footage myself.”
“Then who did?”
“I asked the building manager to remove it.”
Camille stared.
“Why would you do that?”
Geneviève wiped her eyes.
“Because the footage showed me entering Claire's building that night.”
Silence.
Camille felt her stomach tighten.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Geneviève looked at the floor.
“Because your mother contacted me.”
Camille froze.
“You told me you hadn't spoken to her in thirty years.”
“I hadn't. Not until three weeks before she died.”
The room seemed to grow smaller.
Geneviève continued.
“She called me late one evening. At first, I didn't recognize her voice.”
Her expression softened painfully.
“Then she said, ‘Mama, it's Élise.’”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I thought I was dreaming.”
Camille sat down slowly.
“What did she say?”
“She told me she was alive. That she had a daughter. That she wanted to see me.”
Geneviève pressed a hand against her mouth.
“She was frightened. She said she had discovered something terrible and needed help.”
“Did she tell you about Juliette?”
“Yes.”
Camille looked up.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“I promised her I wouldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed someone was watching you.”
Camille's anger returned.
“So you kept lying.”
Geneviève nodded.
“Yes.”
The admission was simple.
Without excuses.
Camille looked away.
Geneviève continued.
“I went to her building the night she died. We were supposed to meet privately.”
“What time?”
“Just after nine.”
“Did you see her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“When I reached the entrance, I saw a man leaving.”
Camille's pulse quickened.
“Who?”
“Étienne.”
Thomas leaned forward.
“Are you certain?”
“I knew him immediately.”
“Did he see you?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He came toward me.”
Geneviève's voice shook.
“He said Élise had suffered an accident.”
Camille felt sick.
“Before anyone called the ambulance?”
Geneviève nodded.
“Yes.”
Thomas wrote something down.
“What did you do?”
“I ran upstairs.”
Camille held her breath.
Geneviève closed her eyes.
“I found her at the bottom of the staircase.”
Her voice broke.
“She was still breathing.”
Camille covered her mouth.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did you call for help?”
“Immediately.”
“What did she say?”
Geneviève began sobbing.
“She grabbed my hand.”
Camille leaned closer.
“And?”
“She said, ‘Protect Camille. Don't let him find Juliette.’”
Silence filled the room.
Geneviève wiped her face.
“Then she lost consciousness.”
Camille stared at her grandmother.
For the first time, she understood that Geneviève had witnessed the final moments of the daughter she had spent thirty years mourning.
But another question remained.
“Why delete the footage?”
Geneviève looked at Thomas.
“After the funeral, someone contacted me. He said the recording showed me entering the building and that he could make it appear I had pushed Élise.”
“Who?”
“I never saw his face.”
“What did he demand?”
“That I persuade the building manager to remove the recording.”
Camille frowned.
“How?”
“The manager was an old acquaintance. I told him the footage showed private family matters and asked him to delete the relevant segment.”
Thomas looked troubled.
“Did he agree?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know you were destroying evidence?”
Geneviève nodded.
“I knew.”
Camille stared at her.
“You could have helped prove what happened to Mom.”
“I know.”
“Instead, you protected yourself.”
Geneviève lowered her head.
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt more than another excuse would have.
Camille stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, Paris glittered beneath the evening lights.
She thought of Claire.
Her mother had spent thirty years making impossible choices.
Some had protected Camille.
Others had robbed her of the truth.
Now Geneviève had done the same.
Camille wondered how many generations of women had been taught that love meant silence.
She turned.
“I can't forgive you right now.”
Geneviève nodded.
“I understand.”
“But I need you to help me find the truth.”
“I will.”
“Even if it means admitting what you did?”
“Yes.”
Camille studied her grandmother.
“Then we start there.”
Thomas closed his notebook.
“We'll need a formal statement. And we need to identify the building manager.”
Geneviève gave him the name.
André Pelletier.
Thomas immediately began searching.
After several minutes, his expression changed.
“What is it?” Camille asked.
“André Pelletier died last month.”
Geneviève looked stunned.
“How?”
“Reported heart attack.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Was he ill?”
Thomas shook his head.
“Not according to the available information.”
Camille felt cold.
“Another convenient death.”
Thomas didn't respond.
Then his computer chimed.
An email had arrived from an anonymous address.
Subject:
THE FOOTAGE WAS NEVER DELETED.
Camille leaned closer.
Thomas opened the message.
There was one attachment.
A video file.
And a sentence.
Your grandmother removed the public copy. I kept the original.
Thomas clicked Play.
Grainy security footage appeared.
A timestamp glowed in the corner.
9:17 p.m.
Claire's apartment building.
A man entered.
Étienne Delacroix.
Seven minutes later, he emerged.
But he wasn't alone.
A woman followed him.
She wore a dark coat.
Her face was partially hidden.
Then she turned toward the camera.
Camille felt her blood freeze.
The woman looked exactly like her.
Exactly like Juliette.
But the footage had been recorded before Camille knew her sister existed.
Thomas paused the video.
Geneviève whispered.
“That's impossible.”
Camille stared at the screen.
May you like
Because the woman beside Étienne was wearing the same silver necklace that had belonged to Claire.
And she was carrying a bloodstained envelope addressed to Camille.
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