The slap landed in the middle of the private room with such force that the quartet stopped mid-song.
Élodie Morel staggered against a chair. Before she could catch her breath, her husband, Antoine, positioned himself in front of Maud, his executive assistant, as if she were the one who needed protecting.
— Never touch her again.
Around them, the 60 guests who had come to celebrate the 60th birthday of Colette, Antoine’s mother, remained frozen. Among them was Lucas, their 12-year-old son, ashen-faced.
Five minutes earlier, Élodie had surprised Maud near the locker room, leaning towards Antoine.
— As soon as she signs the refinancing, we can sell without her understanding anything.
Antoine had laughed. Élodie had reached for an envelope that Maud had just slipped into her bag.
The slap had been delivered.
— Papa! Create Lucas.
Élodie first turned to her son.
— Look at me. It’s okay.
Her cheek was burning. Colette had turned pale. Gérard, her stepfather, had stood up without a word.
Antoine, tipsy from the champagne, pointed towards the exit.
— You just made a fool of me in front of my clients. Take Lucas and go calm down.
Maud gave an almost invisible smile.
“You’ve been living off me for years,” added Antoine. “The house, the cars, the holidays… everything.”
Élodie stared at him, then smiled.
— You’ll understand tomorrow.
She took Lucas’s hand and left.
What Antoine had never understood was that before their marriage, Élodie was an auditor specializing in financial fraud. The €2,000,000 she inherited from her father had financed the down payment on their house, guaranteed part of Antoine’s company loan, and been used to register a lien on his office furniture.
For the past 6 months, Élodie had also been reviewing her accounts.
Not because of Maud.
Because of 17 invoices that should never have existed.
That night, in Colette’s kitchen, Élodie placed her wedding ring near her computer, attached the bank statements, and wrote to her lawyer:
— Throw everything.
PART 2
In the morning, Antoine woke up at Maud’s house convinced that Élodie would come back.
At 9:12 a.m., his bank suspended the disputed line of credit.
At 9:18 a.m., 3 professional cards were refused.
At 9:31 a.m., he received a formal notice regarding the guarantee held by Elodie’s holding company.
When he arrived at the office, she was already there with her lawyer and an external auditor. A thick binder occupied the table.
— What is this circus?
Élodie opened the file: transfers to a company controlled by Maud’s brother, hotels classified as client trips, jewelry registered as business gifts, invoices for missions never carried out.
Maud turned pale.
“Are you snooping through my accounts?” Antoine exclaimed.
— You gave me access 6 months ago to prepare for the bank audit.
The door opened. The finance director of their biggest client entered with his lawyer.
— We checked the services billed. Several never existed.
Then Maud received a printed email: Antoine was promising her 15% of a company whose shares he did not own alone.
She looked up at him.
For the first time, she no longer saw a powerful man.
She saw a man who had also lied to her.
PART 3
At 2 p.m., Antoine discovered that a company does not always collapse with a great crash.
It can crack in small ways: a disabled bank access, a client who no longer calls back, a partner who asks for the articles of association, an accountant who now refuses to execute a transfer without double validation.
After the client left, Antoine remained standing in the meeting room, his hands flat on the table.
“What do you want?” he asked Élodie. “Money? The house? To punish me because I slept with Maud?”
Élodie closed the binder.
— If it had only been an affair, I would have left differently.
— So what?
— You paid for private expenses with company funds. You billed for fictitious services. You used jointly owned property as collateral without my consent. And you planned to withdraw money from the house after the refinancing.
Antoine sneered.
— You’re making it up.
Sarah Delmas, Elodie’s lawyer, slid two pages towards him.
The first one contained a message sent to Maud:
“As soon as Elodie signs, we’ll refinance. Then I’ll get €220,000 in profit margin and she won’t see anything for months.”
On the second one:
“She doesn’t understand anything about these schemes. She just thinks I’m making a good living.”
Antoine stopped smiling.
At the back of the room, Maud grabbed her bag.
— You told me that everything was yours.
– Not now.
— And what about the 15% you promised me?
— We’ll talk about it.
Mr. Delmas intervened:
— Mr. Morel could not transfer this stake to you alone.
Maud fixes her gaze on Antoine.
— You used me.
Élodie didn’t reply. She knew Maud had participated in the lies. But she recognized in her face the exact moment when the image Antoine had created of himself shattered.
Charm, confidence, grand phrases: all became useless in the face of a date, an amount, and a signature.
At 3:20 p.m., Antoine’s two minority partners arrived. The articles of association of their SAS (simplified joint-stock company) stipulated the suspension of his operational powers in the event of serious suspicion of embezzlement that jeopardized the company.
Antoine reread the clause.
— You’re not going to get me out of my own box.
Karim Bensaïd, his partner of 11 years, looked at him without anger.
— It’s not “your” box. That’s precisely what you forgot.
That same evening, Élodie went to the police station. A doctor had examined the bruise left by the slap. She recounted the events without embellishment, gave the names of the witnesses, and provided the contact information for the restaurant, whose security cameras had filmed the entrance to the dining room and part of the incident.
Lucas had stayed at his grandparents’ house.
