Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Margaret Moreau had spent seventy-three years learning how to keep a family together.
She had survived her husband's ambition, her sons' rivalry, the collapse of friendships, and enough financial disputes to understand that money could destroy relationships faster than poverty ever could.
But nothing had prepared her for the night she arrived at the marina and discovered what Antoine had done.
She stepped beneath the dock light.
Antoine turned.
“Mother?”
Margaret stopped several feet away.
“What are you doing here?”
Antoine's face tightened.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I called your office. Your assistant said you were at the marina.”
“You shouldn't have come.”
Margaret looked toward the refrigerated van.
“Why is that vehicle here?”
“It's business.”
“At one in the morning?”
“Mother, please.”
She moved closer.
“Where is Julien?”
Antoine said nothing.
Margaret studied his expression.
Her sons had been different from childhood.
Julien had inherited their father's determination.
Antoine had inherited his sensitivity.
But Antoine had also inherited something more dangerous.
His father's hunger for approval.
Margaret had watched that hunger consume him for decades.
“Antoine,” she said quietly, “look at me.”
He refused.
“Where is your brother?”
“Go home.”
“Answer me.”
Antoine's eyes filled with something she had not seen since he was a frightened child.
Guilt.
Margaret took a step backward.
“Oh, my God.”
“Mother—”
“What have you done?”
Antoine grabbed her arm.
“Lower your voice.”
She pulled away.
“Is Julien hurt?”
“It's complicated.”
“Is he alive?”
Antoine looked toward the water.
And that silence told her everything.
Margaret pressed a hand against her mouth.
“No.”
“Mother, listen.”
“No!”
Her voice echoed across the empty marina.
Antoine glanced around nervously.
“Please. You're going to make this worse.”
Margaret stared at him.
“Worse?”
Her voice broke.
“You think there's something worse than what you've just told me without saying a word?”
Antoine's face hardened.
“You always loved him more.”
The accusation hung between them.
Margaret looked stunned.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Antoine—”
“You always chose Julien.”
“That's not true.”
“He got the company. He got Father's respect. He got everything.”
“You were given opportunities, too.”
“Opportunities?”
Antoine laughed bitterly.
“I spent twenty years working beneath my own brother.”
“Because you refused to take responsibility when it was offered.”
His expression changed.
Margaret immediately regretted the sharpness of her words.
But she did not withdraw them.
“You wanted the title without the sacrifice,” she continued. “Julien worked eighteen-hour days while you traveled. He took risks while you complained. And every time he tried to help you, you called it humiliation.”
Antoine stepped closer.
“You have no idea what I've endured.”
“Then tell me.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
For a moment, Margaret saw the little boy who had once hidden behind her skirts when his father shouted.
Then Antoine looked away.
“You need to leave.”
Margaret stood motionless.
Finally, she spoke.
“If your brother is dead, I will spend whatever years I have left making sure the truth comes out.”
Antoine stared at her.
“You would destroy your own son?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You destroyed yourself. I'm simply refusing to help you hide it.”
She turned and walked toward her car.
Antoine watched her go.
Then he reached for his phone.
### 2:14 a.m.
Julien watched the surveillance recording without speaking.
His mother had not been part of the conspiracy.
She had come because she was worried.
For several minutes, he felt relief so overwhelming that it almost hurt.
Then he remembered the way Antoine had grabbed her arm.
“Get her somewhere safe,” Julien told Reeves.
“We're already arranging protection.”
“Does she know I'm alive?”
“Not yet.”
“Tell her.”
Reeves hesitated.
“Julien, if she contacts Antoine—”
“She won't.”
“You can't know that.”
Julien looked at him.
“I know my mother.”
Reeves studied him for a moment.
Then nodded.
“All right. But she needs to understand the danger.”
Julien reached for the phone.
When Margaret answered, her voice was barely recognizable.
“Hello?”
“Mom.”
Silence.
Then a sharp intake of breath.
“Julien?”
“It's me.”
“No.”
“Mom, I'm alive.”
A sob escaped her.
“Oh, my God.”
“I'm safe.”
“Antoine told me—”
“I know.”
“He didn't say it directly, but I knew. I thought—”
Her voice collapsed.
Julien closed his eyes.
“I'm here.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Margaret whispered something Julien would remember for the rest of his life.
“I prayed for both my sons tonight. I didn't know one of them was trying to kill the other.”
Julien gripped the phone.
“Mom, listen carefully. You need to go with the officers who are coming to your house.”
“Officers?”
“They'll explain.”
“Julien, what about Antoine?”
He stared at the wall.
“I don't know.”
“Is he going to prison?”
“If he did what we believe, he should.”
Margaret began crying again.
Julien wanted to comfort her.
He wanted to promise that everything would somehow return to normal.
But he had learned what false promises cost.
So he told her the truth.
“I love you, Mom. And I'm going to do everything I can to keep you safe. But I can't save Antoine from the consequences of his choices.”
Margaret whispered, “I understand.”
After the call, Julien remained silent.
Reeves waited beside the door.
Finally, Julien spoke.
“Where's Camille?”
“Back at the estate.”
“With Victor?”
“Yes.”
“Are they being watched?”
“Continuously.”
Julien looked toward the clock.
3:06 a.m.
Camille had been a widow for just over three hours.
He wondered whether she had cried.
Whether she had called his daughter.
Whether she had already begun choosing which parts of his life she intended to keep.
Reeves interrupted his thoughts.
“We intercepted a message from Victor.”
“To whom?”
“Bellamy.”
Julien looked up.
“What did it say?”
Reeves turned his phone around.
The message contained only six words.
THE DAUGHTER MUST BE HANDLED NEXT.
Julien felt the room tilt.
“Sophie.”
Reeves was already moving.
“We're sending officers.”
Julien threw back the blanket.
“Where is she?”
“Boston. At her apartment.”
“Call her.”
“We are.”
Julien grabbed his phone.
His hands shook as he dialed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Then a text appeared on his screen.
May you like
It came from Sophie's number.
DAD, THERE'S SOMEONE OUTSIDE MY DOOR.
