Chương 4
He pointed to several sections.
“According to this agreement, the company received funding from a private lender.”
“Who?”
Daniel tapped another page.
“A third-party investor.”
“That sounds normal.”
“It would be.”
He looked at me.
“If your husband was not listed as the personal guarantor.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means if Northstar fails to repay the money, the investor can pursue Julien personally.”
I stared at the document.
“But why would he do that?”
Nobody answered immediately.
That silence bothered me more than an accusation would have.
My father leaned forward.
“Juliette.”
I looked at him.
“You know your husband better than we do.”
That sentence hurt because it was true.
I had spent years defending Julien to people who questioned his choices.
When my mother once mentioned that he seemed obsessed with appearances, I told her he was ambitious.
When my father said Julien cared too much about what others thought, I told him everyone had insecurities.
I had translated his flaws into excuses because I loved him.
Now I was sitting at my parents’ table trying to figure out whether those excuses had protected him or protected me from seeing reality.
“I need more information,” I said.
Daniel nodded.
“That is the correct answer.”
He closed the folder.
“Do not confront him yet.”
My father looked surprised.
“Why not?”
“Because right now, she has suspicion.”
Daniel looked at me.
“She does not have enough proof to know the full situation.”
“I have the documents.”
“You have documents showing financial activity.”
He tapped the folder gently.
“You do not yet know what Julien planned, what he was promised, what he lied about, or what he may have believed.”
I hated that he was right.
I wanted the answer to be simple.
I wanted Julien to be either innocent or guilty.
I wanted a clear line.
But people rarely gave you one.
Especially people you loved.
My mother reached over and squeezed my hand.
“When are you going to tell him you know?”
I looked at her.
“I do not know.”
It was the first honest thing I had said all afternoon.
My father leaned back.
“You always hated uncertainty.”
I smiled faintly.
“When I was twelve, I made you replace the kitchen cabinet doors because I did not like the sound the old ones made.”
My father laughed quietly.
“You were impossible.”
“I was ten.”
“You were still impossible.”
For a moment, the tension loosened.
Just for a moment.
That was what my parents were good at.
They never pretended problems disappeared.
They just reminded you that you were still a person while facing them.
When I left their house, Daniel gave me his number.
“Call me before you make any decisions,” he said.
I put the card in my wallet.
“I appreciate this.”
He nodded.
“Your father said you are stubborn.”
I looked at my father.
“He did not say that.”
Daniel smiled.
“He said you are the kind of person who keeps going after everyone else tells you to stop.”
I looked down at the card.
“That sounds nicer.”
“It was not meant as criticism.”
“I know.”
Because it was true.
The problem was that stubbornness could be strength.
It could also keep you standing inside a burning building because you refused to admit the roof was falling.
When I got home, Julien was sitting on the couch watching television.
He looked comfortable.
That bothered me.
Not because he was relaxed.
Because I was beginning to understand that comfort was something he protected at other people’s expense.
“You were gone a long time,” he said.
“I visited my parents.”
He muted the television.
“Everything okay?”
The question sounded almost caring.
Almost.
“Yes.”
He studied me.
“Your father say anything?”
There it was.
A small crack.
A question that arrived too quickly.
I placed my keys on the table.
“Why would he say something?”
Julien shrugged.
“No reason.”
The answer was too casual.
I sat in the chair across from him.
For years, I had filled silence because silence felt uncomfortable.
Now I let it exist.
Julien shifted after ten seconds.
Then fifteen.
Finally, he picked up the remote.
“You are acting weird.”
“I am tired.”
“You have been tired for days.”
“Maybe losing my job affected me.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
There it was again.
The discomfort.
He did not like being reminded that something had happened to me.
“I am trying to help you,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Are you?”
He frowned.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I do not know.”
The answer surprised even me.
Because it was not a strategy.
It was the truth.
I genuinely did not know anymore.
That night, Julien went to bed early.
I stayed downstairs.
The house felt different.
Not because anything had changed physically.
The same couch sat against the wall.
The same pictures hung above the fireplace.
Our wedding photo was still there.
I picked it up.
In the picture, Julien was smiling with his arm around me.
I remembered that day clearly.
The rain that started during the ceremony.
My mother crying before I even walked down the aisle.
My father pretending he had something in his eye.
Julien telling me later that he had never felt more certain about anything.
I believed him.
That was the part that hurt.
Not that he might have lied.
That he might have meant it at the time.
My phone buzzed near midnight.
It was a message from an unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the name attached.
Léo.
I opened it.
“Juliette, we need to talk before Julien does something worse.”
I stared at the screen.
A second message appeared.
“Please do not tell him I contacted you.”
I sat completely still.
The person I had expected to be part of the problem had just reached out like he was afraid of my husband.
I looked toward the stairs.
May you like
Julien was asleep upstairs.
Or at least, I hoped he was.
