Three times.
Camille opened the door calmly.
Claire stood outside beside Maître Morel and two police officers.
And behind them, near the gate, another car had just arrived.
Élodie Martin stepped out wearing sunglasses and a beige coat like someone arriving to inspect a future property she already believed belonged to her.
Then she noticed the officers.
Her face drained instantly.
“Marc?” she asked shakily. “What’s happening?”
Camille looked directly at her.
“The trip was canceled.”
Claire lifted the blue folder slightly.
“You’ll both have opportunities to explain yourselves formally.”
Marc tried stepping toward Élodie, but one officer raised a hand.
“Mr. Delcourt, we’re going to ask you to come with us.”
“This is insane!” Marc exploded. “She’s doing this because she’s jealous!”
A strange calm settled inside Camille then.
For years Marc had dismissed her intelligence while quietly depending on it.
Now that same intelligence was the reason he failed.
“No,” Camille replied calmly. “I’m doing this because you attempted to misuse my assets, manipulate my signature, and deceive your own family.”
Marc stared at her with open hatred.
“You’ll regret this.”
Camille never looked away.
“The only thing I regret is trusting you for so long.”
That night, Camille and Leo stayed at Claire’s house.
After Leo finally fell asleep holding tightly onto her hand, Camille cried silently for the first time.
Not for the marriage.
That had died already.
She cried for her son.
For the woman she used to be.
For the home that no longer felt safe.
Claire brought her tea quietly.
“You were strong today.”
Camille shook her head.
“I don’t feel strong.”
Claire sat beside her gently.
“No one feels strong while surviving. Strength only becomes visible afterward.”
The following months were difficult but decisive.
