Chương 13
“Something like, ‘She looks like you, doesn’t she?’”
Claire stared at her mother.
“And Marc called you.”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell him?”
“To ignore her.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“What did he do?”
“He paid her.”
Claire’s eyes widened.
“How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
I felt a cold line travel down my back.
“For what?”
“To leave you alone.”
Claire laughed.
Then covered her mouth as if the sound embarrassed her.
“He paid someone ten thousand euros to leave me alone and nobody thought I should know.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“He was trying to protect you.”
Claire pointed toward the stairs.
“That sentence has done enough damage in this family.”
Nobody spoke.
The house had become very quiet.
Then I heard a floorboard upstairs.
Tessa.
Listening again.
I lowered my voice.
“Where is Marc now?”
Evelyn looked at the phone.
“At home, I assume.”
Claire picked up her keys from the counter.
I stepped in front of her.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Move.”
“You’re not driving anywhere like this.”
“Don’t start controlling me now.”
“That isn’t what this is.”
“It looks familiar.”
The words landed cleanly.
I stepped aside immediately.
Claire saw it.
Her face softened for half a second.
Then hardened again.
“I am going to see him.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“With what plan?”
“To ask him why I am thirty-seven years old and finding out who my father is from a blackmail message.”
“That is not a plan.”
“It is enough.”
Evelyn stood.
“You cannot go there.”
Claire turned.
“Watch me.”
“He is not well.”
Claire stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Evelyn pressed her lips together.
“He had a stroke in May.”
Claire’s anger faltered.
“What?”
“A minor one.”
“And nobody told me?”
“He asked us not to.”
“Us.”
Evelyn did not answer.
Claire’s eyes filled.
“You and him.”
“Yes.”
“You have been speaking to my biological father my entire life.”
“Yes.”
“And he has been speaking to you.”
“Yes.”
“And both of you watched me call another man Dad.”
Evelyn stood very still.
“Philippe was your father.”
“Then why keep Marc around?”
“For practical reasons.”
Claire almost laughed.
“Please say something human.”
Evelyn’s face broke.
“I loved Philippe.”
Claire waited.
“And I loved Marc too.”
The admission hung there.
Not romantic enough to excuse anything.
Not clean enough to dismiss.
Claire whispered, “All those years?”
“No.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“Not like that.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means life continued.”
Claire turned away.
“That is the first honest thing you’ve said.”
I looked at the address on the phone.
“Does Marc know Claire is coming?”
“No.”
“Does Roxane know he is home?”
Evelyn’s eyes widened.
“I don’t know.”
That answer suddenly mattered more than all the others.
I looked at Claire.
“Roxane gave you his address now.”
“So?”
“So why now?”
Claire glanced at the phone.
Her expression shifted.
“She wants me to go there.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn whispered, “Don’t.”
Claire looked at her.
Not because Evelyn had authority.
Because fear had finally entered Evelyn’s voice.
“What are you not telling us?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
“I mean it.”
“Then why are you scared?”
“I am scared because Roxane is angry and Marc is vulnerable.”
I picked up the second phone.
“Call him.”
Evelyn frowned.
“What?”
“Call Marc.”
She hesitated.
Claire stared at her.
“You have his number.”
“Yes.”
“Call.”
Evelyn took out her own phone.
Her hand shook as she searched the contacts.
She pressed the screen and put it on speaker.
We listened.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Then someone answered.
No one spoke.
Evelyn leaned toward the phone.
“Marc?”
There was breathing on the other end.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Hello, Evelyn.”
Claire’s face went white.
I recognized the voice only from the few recordings Claire had played earlier.
Roxane.
Evelyn gripped the table.
“Where is Marc?”
Roxane gave a soft laugh.
“With me.”
Claire stepped closer to the phone.
“Roxane.”
Silence.
Then the tone changed.
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“You finally read the box.”
Claire’s face hardened.
“Where is Marc?”
“He’s fine.”
“I want to hear him.”
“He’s tired.”
“Put him on.”
Roxane did not answer.
I moved closer.
“Roxane, this is Gabriel.”
“I know who you are.”
That stopped me.
“How?”
Another small laugh.
“You’re not difficult to find.”
Claire looked at me.
I felt the room cool around us.
“You photographed Claire outside work?”
Roxane ignored the question.
“Did Evelyn tell you about the payments?”
Claire spoke.
“She told us enough.”
“No, she told you what makes her survivable.”
“Where is Marc?”
“You keep asking the wrong question.”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“What is the right one?”
Roxane was quiet for a second.
“Why did Philippe keep proof of every payment Marc made to Evelyn?”
Claire looked at the box.
Evelyn whispered, “Don’t listen to her.”
Roxane heard.
“Oh, she’s there.”
“Roxane,” Claire said, “put Marc on the phone.”
A muffled sound came through.
A man coughing.
Then a weak voice.
“Claire?”
Claire stopped breathing.
“Marc?”
Another cough.
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes filled instantly.
“For what?”
Roxane said something away from the phone.
Marc answered her, but we could not hear the words.
Then he came back.
“You shouldn’t come here.”
Claire stared at the phone.
“Are you safe?”
A pause.
Too long.
“Yes.”
I looked at Claire.
She looked at me.
Neither of us believed him.
Then Marc said, very quietly, “Call the police.”
The line went dead.
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Claire reached for her keys again.
This time I did not step in front of her.
I took out my own phone and called emergency services.
Claire looked at me while I gave Marc’s address, explained that an elderly man recovering from a stroke had asked us to call the police, and said a woman named Roxane was inside with him.
The dispatcher asked whether there were weapons.
“I don’t know.”
Whether Roxane had threatened him.
“I don’t know.”
Whether Marc had said he was being held against his will.
May you like
I looked at Claire.
“He told us to call the police and the line disconnected.”
