Marc paused immediately.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Sit down, Marc.”
He laughed nervously.
“Now you’re giving orders in my own house?”
Camille looked him directly in the eyes.
“This house was never yours.”
His face changed instantly.
“What?”
“I bought this home before we married. It’s protected under our prenuptial agreement. You knew that.”
Marc’s expression tightened.
“You’re exhausted,” he muttered. “You’re imagining things.”
“I canceled the Lyon trip.”
Silence.
For the first time, genuine panic flashed across his face.
“You canceled?”
“Yes.”
Camille slowly opened the blue folder.
“Power of attorney revoked.”
Another paper.
“Banks notified.”
Another.
“Protective measures filed.”
Another.
“Police complaint submitted.”
Then finally she placed the notary document in front of him.
“And this,” she said quietly, “is the property structure you planned with Élodie Martin.”
Marc went pale.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then suddenly his tone softened.
“Camille, you’re misunderstanding everything. I only wanted to help manage things for you.”
“With your mistress?”
His jaw tightened.
“Don’t call her that.”
“What should I call her? Your accomplice?”
Marc stepped backward slightly.
That tiny movement told Camille everything.
He knew he was caught.
“You dragged Leo into this,” Marc snapped suddenly.
Camille stood slowly.
“No. You did that the moment you turned his home into a lie.”
Marc moved toward her angrily.
Then the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
