Chương 12
I almost smiled.
"That sounds unbearable."
"It was."
"You married me."
"I was young."
"So was I."
"No."
She looked at me.
"You were already thirty-two."
"That is still young."
"Not the way you behaved."
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Lucie looked surprised.
Then she laughed too.
It lasted only a second.
When it ended, the silence was different.
Not comfortable.
But less hostile.
A neurologist came through the doors carrying a tablet.
"Family of Arthur Vance?"
We both stood.
"I'm his son."
"I'm his former daughter-in-law."
The doctor looked between us and wisely did not ask.
"I'm Dr. Lambert."
He shook my hand.
"Your father is stable."
The tightness in my chest eased slightly.
"The scan shows evidence consistent with the previous stroke."
"Anything from a fall?"
Dr. Lambert chose his words carefully.
"There is an old area of trauma near the left temporal region."
Lucie stiffened.
"What does that mean?"
"It means he likely struck his head around the time of the event."
"Could that have caused the stroke?"
"Not necessarily."
"Could someone pushing him have caused it?"
The doctor's expression became more guarded.
"A fall could produce head trauma."
He paused.
"Whether the fall caused the stroke, resulted from the stroke, or occurred during the same event cannot be determined from this scan alone."
I nodded.
"Can you tell when the trauma occurred?"
"Approximately, but not with enough precision to identify an exact hour."
"So this doesn't prove anything."
"No."
Dr. Lambert looked at me.
"But your father has also indicated that he remembers falling during a confrontation."
"Can his memory be trusted?"
Lucie's head turned sharply toward me.
I ignored it.
The doctor did not.
"That's a reasonable question."
He adjusted the tablet.
"Stroke can affect language, recall, sequencing, and interpretation."
"So he could be wrong."
"He could."
"Or he could be right."
"He could."
I exhaled.
No certainty.
Again.
Dr. Lambert continued.
"What matters medically is that he has been trying to communicate the memory consistently."
Lucie asked, "Can he do that safely?"
"With limited sessions."
"He gets agitated."
"I noticed."
The doctor nodded.
"I would not repeatedly question him outside a structured setting."
That was directed at me.
I deserved it.
"Understood."
"We can arrange neuropsychological assessment and supported communication."
"Do it."
Dr. Lambert looked at Lucie.
She nodded.
"Please."
When he left, Lucie folded her arms.
"You asked whether Arthur could be trusted."
"I asked whether his memory could be affected."
"You could have phrased it differently."
"I needed an answer."
"You always need answers in the ugliest possible wording."
"I am working on that."
"Work faster."
We were interrupted by my phone.
Henri.
I answered.
"I have something you need to hear."
His voice was quieter than usual.
"What?"
"Valmont sent the payment history."
"How?"
"Arthur's signed authorization came through."
I looked at Lucie.
She was watching me closely.
"And?"
"Five monthly payments."
"From Margaux?"
"Yes."
"Using my transfers?"
"That part we cannot prove."
Henri paused.
"But the dates are the same."
My grip tightened.
"Same day?"
"Within hours."
"Every month?"
"Four of five."
"And the fifth?"
"The following morning."
Lucie's expression changed as she listened to my side.
"What else?"
"One more thing."
I waited.
"The debt balance jumped seven months ago because Valmont added enforcement costs."
"Why?"
"Because a scheduled lump-sum repayment failed."
"How much?"
"One hundred fifty thousand."
I closed my eyes.
"Where was that supposed to come from?"
"According to the agreement, proceeds from the sale of another asset."
"What asset?"
"A commercial property."
"Whose?"
Henri did not answer immediately.
"Sorelle Conseil listed a warehouse in Villeurbanne."
I frowned.
"They owned a warehouse?"
"Apparently not."
"What do you mean?"
"The property belongs to one of your companies."
I stopped breathing for a second.
"Which one?"
"Vance Mobilier Logistique."
That was our distribution warehouse.
Worth more than two million euros.
"That's impossible."
"I said the same thing."
"How could Sorelle pledge property it didn't own?"
"It couldn't legally."
"Then why is it in the agreement?"
"Because someone provided documentation suggesting Sorelle had a beneficial claim tied to it."
"What documentation?"
"A private side agreement."
My voice went flat.
"Signed by whom?"
"You."
Lucie saw my face.
"What?"
I turned away from her.
"Henri, I never signed anything giving Sorelle rights to the warehouse."
"I believe you."
"Do you have the document?"
"Yes."
"Send it."
"It may be forged."
"Send it."
The email arrived while he was still on the phone.
I opened the attachment.
The signature looked like mine.
Not vaguely.
Exactly.
The document was dated three years earlier.
Two weeks before I accused Lucie.
I enlarged the page.
There was my company seal.
My initials.
A witness signature.
My stomach dropped.
"Who witnessed it?"
Henri answered.
"Paul Mercier."
Lucie had gone pale.
I handed her the phone.
She read the page.
"No."
"What?"
"Paul didn't witness this."
"How do you know?"
"Because that date was the day he was in Marseille."
I stared at her.
"You're sure?"
"He called me from there."
"Could he have signed electronically?"
"Maybe."
She looked again.
"But this isn't his normal signature."
"How do you know that?"
"He signed hundreds of supplier documents."
I took the phone back.
"Henri, send this to Claire."
"Already did."
"Can we determine when it was created?"
"We're checking."
"And the warehouse?"
"No immediate enforcement against it."
"Why not?"
"Because Valmont appears to know the ownership claim is disputed."
"So what were they expecting?"
"The hundred fifty thousand."
I looked through the glass doors toward the imaging corridor.
"Why would Margaux promise a payment she couldn't make?"
Henri's voice lowered.
"Maybe she thought she could."
"From where?"
"I don't know."
A message from Claire appeared while he spoke.
Call me.
Urgent.
I ended with Henri and called her immediately.
"What did you find?"
"Paul."
"What about him?"
"He contacted the company."
"When?"
"Three years ago."
"Before the divorce?"
"Two days before."
I felt the corridor tilt slightly.
"Who did he contact?"
"You."
May you like
"No."
"Your account."
