Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER AT THE DOCK
Antoine Moreau stood beneath a flickering dock light at 12:38 a.m., staring into the darkness beyond the marina.
He wore a charcoal overcoat, polished black shoes, and an expression of carefully controlled impatience.
To anyone passing by, he would have looked like a wealthy businessman waiting for a late-night arrival.
But Antoine was not waiting for a boat.
He was waiting for his brother's corpse.
His phone vibrated.
Victor.
“Is everything ready?” Victor asked.
Antoine glanced toward a refrigerated service van parked beside the warehouse.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Did it happen?”
A pause.
Then Victor answered.
“Julien is gone.”
Antoine closed his eyes.
He had imagined hearing those words many times.
During board meetings.
During family dinners.
During the endless years when Julien's name had appeared on magazine covers while his own contributions were reduced to footnotes.
He had imagined satisfaction.
Relief.
Freedom.
Instead, he felt a strange emptiness.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I watched him go into the water.”
“And the chain?”
Victor hesitated.
“What about it?”
“Was it secured?”
“The guards handled it.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Victor's voice hardened.
“Don't start losing your nerve now.”
Antoine looked toward the harbor.
“You promised there would be no mistakes.”
“And there weren't.”
But Antoine knew Victor well enough to recognize uncertainty.
He had known him for nearly four years.
Long before Camille became involved.
Long before the missing millions.
Long before the plan to remove Julien became a murder conspiracy.
Antoine had introduced Victor to Moreau Holdings as a private investment consultant.
Victor had arrived with impeccable references, expensive suits, and an extraordinary talent for telling powerful men exactly what they wanted to hear.
Julien had distrusted him almost immediately.
Antoine had not.
Victor had understood something important about him.
Antoine did not merely want money.
He wanted recognition.
He wanted the world to acknowledge that Moreau Holdings had been built by two brothers, not one.
And Victor had used that resentment like a key.
“Your brother will never give you what you deserve,” Victor had told him during their first private meeting.
Antoine remembered laughing.
“What makes you think I deserve anything more?”
“Because men like Julien don't share power. They distribute responsibility and keep the credit.”
It was a simple observation.
And it had changed Antoine's life.
Over the following years, Victor slowly transformed resentment into conspiracy.
First came questionable consulting agreements.
Then inflated invoices.
Then offshore accounts.
By the time Antoine understood how much money had been diverted, he was already implicated.
Victor made sure he knew it.
The phone crackled.
“Antoine?” Victor demanded.
“I'm here.”
“Once the recovery team finishes, contact me.”
“And Camille?”
“She believes everything is under control.”
Antoine stared at the black water.
“Does she know about our arrangement?”
“Of course not.”
“Keep it that way.”
Victor laughed softly.
“Trust me.”
Antoine ended the call.
Those two words had begun to sound like a threat.
### Across the harbor
Inside a private medical facility, Julien lay beneath warm blankets while a physician evaluated him for hypothermia and complications from seawater aspiration.
His wrists were bandaged.
His throat burned.
His body ached.
But his mind had never been clearer.
Daniel Reeves stood near the doorway.
He was a tall man in his early forties with tired eyes and the measured movements of someone accustomed to dangerous situations.
“You should be in a hospital,” Reeves said.
“The doctor says I'm stable enough for now.”
“The doctor says you need monitoring.”
Julien looked at him.
“Then monitor me while we talk.”
Reeves sighed.
“You're just as stubborn as Lefèvre warned me.”
“Did you get the evidence?”
“We received the archive. Financial records, messages, recordings, and your statement.”
“Enough to arrest them?”
“Enough to justify a serious investigation. Some of it still needs authentication. And your survival gives us a witness to an attempted murder.”
Julien looked toward the window.
“Antoine?”
Reeves nodded.
“We have a team watching the dock.”
“Arrest him.”
“Not yet.”
Julien turned sharply.
“He helped arrange my murder.”
“We believe he did. But I want to know who else is involved.”
“There are others?”
Reeves placed a photograph on the bed.
It showed a middle-aged man leaving the Moreau corporate headquarters.
Julien recognized him immediately.
“Richard Bellamy.”
“Your chief financial officer.”
“He's worked for me for sixteen years.”
“According to the records, he approved several of the transfers.”
Julien shook his head.
“Richard wouldn't do that.”
Reeves said nothing.
Julien stared at the photograph.
Then he laughed bitterly.
“I said the same thing about Camille.”
Reeves pulled up a chair.
“Julien, I need you to understand something. This investigation may reveal people you trusted who were involved in serious crimes. We can't protect you from that.”
“I don't need protection from the truth.”
“Good. Because there's something else.”
He opened a folder.
Inside was a copy of an insurance policy.
Julien recognized the company name.
But not the document.
“What is this?”
“A life insurance policy purchased eight months ago.”
Julien frowned.
“I have several policies.”
“This one is different.”
Reeves pointed to the beneficiary section.
The policy carried a death benefit of twelve million dollars.
The beneficiary was not Camille.
Not Sophie.
Not the Moreau family trust.
It was a private corporation registered in Delaware.
A corporation controlled by Antoine.
Julien stared at the page.
“My brother insured my life?”
“Without your knowledge, apparently.”
“Can he do that?”
“Not lawfully using forged consent. We're investigating the application and signatures.”
Julien studied the signature.
It looked like his.
But he had never signed it.
For the first time since being pulled from the ocean, his composure broke.
He covered his face with both hands.
His younger brother.
The boy he had carried on his shoulders.
The teenager he had defended when their father called him irresponsible.
The man Julien had given a senior executive position when nobody else would hire him.
That man had apparently assigned a dollar value to Julien's death.
Twelve million dollars.
Reeves waited.
Finally, Julien lowered his hands.
“There's something you should know about Antoine.”
“What?”
“He has a son.”
“Your nephew?”
“Ethan. He's nineteen. Brilliant kid. Studying engineering.”
Reeves nodded.
“And?”
“Antoine has spent his entire life trying to prove he deserves the Moreau name. Ethan has spent his entire life trying to escape what that name does to people.”
Julien looked toward the photograph again.
“If Antoine goes down, Ethan shouldn't have to pay for his father's crimes.”
Reeves studied him.
“You're worried about your nephew?”
“I'm worried about everyone who didn't choose this.”
For a moment, the investigator said nothing.
Then his phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Keep eyes on him. Do not engage.”
He ended the call.
Julien sat straighter.
“What happened?”
“Antoine just received a visitor.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Camille?”
Reeves shook his head.
Then he turned the phone toward Julien.
A live surveillance image showed a woman stepping out of a dark sedan near the dock.
She wore a long coat and carried a small leather bag.
Her face was partially obscured.
But Julien knew her.
He had known her for most of his life.
His voice became a whisper.
“That can't be possible.”
Reeves leaned closer.
“Who is she?”
May you like
Julien stared at the screen.
“That's my mother.”
