Chương 13
Florent looked at me.
For the first time all night, I saw fear in him that had nothing to do with getting caught.
It was fear of his father.
The discovery rearranged something inside me.
Not sympathy.
Understanding.
A scar I had never seen.
Antoine hit the door again.
“I said open it.”
Florent stepped back.
Elias whispered, “Don’t.”
Florent looked at him.
“My father knows the override code.”
As if summoned by the words, the keypad beeped outside.
Once.
Twice.
Then the lock clicked.
Elias moved in front of me.
The door opened.
Antoine entered.
He stopped when he saw Florent’s bloody lip.
Then his eyes moved to Elias.
Then me.
No surprise.
Only fury.
“You idiot,” he said to his son.
Florent’s face went still.
Antoine shut the door.
“You were supposed to handle her.”
“I am handling it.”
“This looks handled to you?”
“Lower your voice.”
Antoine crossed the room and slapped Florent.
The sound was sharp.
Nobody moved.
Florent did not touch his cheek.
He just looked at his father.
Something old lived in that look.
Something practiced.
Antoine pointed at me.
“She knows.”
“Yes.”
“She contacted someone.”
“Yes.”
“She has evidence.”
Florent said nothing.
Antoine saw the answer.
His gaze moved to my jacket pocket.
I felt the paper against my ribs.
“There.”
Florent said, “Leave it.”
Antoine looked at him.
“What?”
“I said leave it.”
His father’s face changed.
“You don’t get to develop principles tonight.”
“This is over.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Florent’s voice strengthened.
“The original plan is over.”
Antoine laughed.
“There was no original plan until you gave us access.”
Florent’s jaw tightened.
“You asked me to get documents signed.”
“And you did.”
“You asked for account information.”
“And you provided it.”
“You asked me to marry her.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
Antoine looked almost bored.
“You were already sleeping with her.”
My stomach turned.
Florent looked at me.
I could not read his face anymore.
Antoine continued.
“Don’t start pretending you were dragged into this.”
“I said it’s over.”
“You don’t decide that.”
“I do now.”
Antoine took a step toward him.
Florent did not move.
His father said, “Do you know what happens if we go back to Paris with nothing?”
“Yes.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I know exactly.”
“Then stop behaving like a child.”
He pointed at me again.
“She is three hundred million euros.”
I felt Elias tense beside me.
Antoine did not notice.
“She is not a person in this problem.”
Florent’s face emptied.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because she is standing right there.”
Antoine laughed.
“So now manners matter?”
Florent looked at me.
I wished he would not.
Antoine saw it.
Understanding crossed his face.
Then disgust.
“Oh.”
He smiled.
“You actually fell for her.”
Florent said nothing.
Antoine laughed again.
The sound was almost delighted.
“That is pathetic.”
“Shut up.”
“You kept Camille because you wanted an exit.”
“I said shut up.”
“And then the little heiress smiled at you enough times and suddenly—”
Florent hit him.
One punch.
Much cleaner than Elias’s.
Antoine staggered against the desk.
For a second, everyone froze.
Then Antoine straightened.
Blood ran from his nose.
He looked at his son.
Not shocked.
Almost satisfied.
“There you are.”
Florent’s breathing changed.
“What?”
“That’s the boy I raised.”
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“Now finish what you started.”
The cabin door opened behind him.
Captain Laurent stood there with Marc and two deckhands.
No one spoke.
Laurent looked at Antoine’s bloody face, Florent’s split lip, the broken radio, and the marks on my wrist.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Come here.”
Antoine moved first.
He grabbed my arm.
Florent grabbed his father’s wrist.
“Let her go.”
Antoine turned on him.
“You stupid bastard.”
Florent twisted his arm away from me.
“Let her go.”
Laurent shouted something to Marc.
The room exploded into movement.
Marc seized Antoine.
One deckhand pulled Elias back.
The other moved toward Florent.
Florent raised both hands.
“I’m not resisting.”
Antoine fought.
Not well.
Wildly.
He kicked the desk, knocked over a chair, and screamed at Florent in French.
“You ruined everything.”
Marc pinned him against the wall.
Laurent reached me.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Then walk.”
I stepped into the corridor.
My knees shook.
Florence stood twenty feet away.
She looked at me.
Then at the men inside the cabin.
Her face crumpled.
Not with guilt.
With rage.
“You.”
She pointed at me.
“This is because of you.”
I stared at her.
For three days she had called me darling.
Now I saw the woman beneath the word.
She stepped toward me.
Laurent blocked her.
“Madame, return to the salon.”
Florence ignored him.
“You destroyed my family.”
Something inside me finally became calm.
Not strong.
Not brave.
Just finished.
“No,” I said.
My voice barely rose above the engine hum.
“I interrupted what your family was doing to mine.”
Florence stopped.
Behind us, Antoine was still shouting.
Florent said something I could not hear.
Then Marc answered sharply.
The yacht rolled hard to starboard.
Everyone reached instinctively for a wall or railing.
A weather alarm sounded from above.
Laurent looked toward the stairs.
“Bridge.”
One of the deckhands answered through his radio.
“Captain, patrol vessel has updated ETA.”
Laurent took the handset.
“When?”
He listened.
Then his expression shifted.
“Understood.”
He looked at me.
“Forty-five minutes.”
Florence heard.
So did Florent.
So did Antoine.
And for the first time all night, midnight no longer belonged to them.
Captain Laurent did not waste another second.
He ordered Marc to secure Antoine in the crew office and told the deckhands to escort Florence to the salon.
Florence protested until Marc informed her that any attempt to interfere with navigation during worsening weather would be treated as an immediate safety risk.
That language worked on her.
She understood consequences better than shame.
Antoine kept shouting until the crew office door closed.
May you like
Florent did not shout.
He stood in the corridor with blood drying on his lip and watched me as if he were waiting for a verdict I had no intention of giving him.
