PART 1
The first blow from the metal bar shattered Camille’s windshield in front of his parents, and neither of them moved to stop their son.
Julien, 24, lifted the wheel wrench again.
— You should have just lent me the car.
The second impact shattered the glass all the way to the rearview mirror. On the steps of their house near Angers, Mireille crossed her arms while Alain let out a nervous little laugh.
Camille stepped back, her hand covering her mouth. At 32, she had saved for six years to buy this car. It was the first major purchase she had made without asking anyone’s opinion.
His mother sighed.
— You work from home. Julien, on the other hand, needs it.
— I have client meetings in Nantes.
Julien sneered.
— Your meetings with your computer? Stop acting like you’re important.
Camille felt something break inside her, but it wasn’t because of the windshield.
For years, she had paid an electricity bill here, an overdraft there, Julien’s insurance when he lost yet another job. Every time she refused, the same word was uttered: family.
His father went down the steps.
— Give us the keys. We’ll get it fixed and Julien will take the car for a few days.
Camille stared at him.
— And who will pay?
— You, obviously. You’re the one who provoked it.
This time, she smiled.
Julien stopped.
— Why are you smiling?
Camille took her phone out of her jacket pocket.
The camera had been rolling from the beginning.
At that moment, a police car entered the driveway.
Mireille’s face fell.
— Camille… what did you do?
— For once, nothing. I simply stopped protecting you.
But when the policeman asked who had destroyed the car, Alain paled even more than Julien.
Then he whispered:
— Before you file a complaint, you need to know what happened to your grandmother’s money.
PART 2
Camille initially thought she had misheard.
Alain returned from home with a yellowed envelope bearing his first name.
Inside was a copy of a notarial deed dating back 7 years.
Madeleine, Camille’s grandmother, had bequeathed her €178,000.
— I never received that money.
Alain lowered his eyes.
At 23, Camille was finishing her studies in Montreal. She had given her father power of attorney to manage some expenses in France. The letters from the notary had arrived at her parents’ house. Alain had the inheritance paid into an account in Camille’s name… then used his power of attorney to transfer the money.
Initially, it was to save their home.
Then to pay for Julien’s studies.
His vehicle.
His rent.
His debts.
— How much is left?
Long silence.
— 39 400 €.
Julien turned pale.
— My apartment too?
Alain nodded.
Camille looked at her brother, then at her mother.
For 7 years, he had been accused of being selfish with money they had already taken from him.
She turned towards the policeman.
— I stand by my complaint.
And for the first time, no one in her family could change her mind.
PART 3
Mireille let out a strangled cry.
— Are you really going to do that to your brother?
Camille turned slowly towards her.
The hood of his car was covered in small shards of glass. Some were still glinting in the grooves near the windshield wipers.
— No, Mom. Julien did something. I’m just going to stop erasing the consequences.
— That’s your brother!
– Exactly.
Julien said nothing more.
A few minutes earlier, he still had that arrogant anger he had carried since adolescence, that of a boy used to seeing someone running after him to fix every disaster.
That anger had disappeared.
He was now looking at the wheel changer lying on the ground.
— I really did that…
No one answered.
The police officer gathered the necessary information and calmly explained the procedure. Camille would provide the video, photographs, and vehicle invoice, and would formally file a complaint for the damage.
Mireille tried again to talk about a “family argument”.
The policeman cut her off with cold politeness.
— A family dispute does not give you the right to destroy someone’s property.
These words had a strange effect on Camille.
They were simple.
Obvious.
And yet she had spent almost her entire life hearing the opposite.
In this house, belonging to the family had always meant that they had to accept more, forgive more quickly, and pay more often.
She watched her father.
— I want all the documents concerning Grandma.
— Camille…
– All.
Alain nodded.
This time, he didn’t argue.
The next day, Camille left the small studio apartment at the back of her parents’ property, where she had been living temporarily for a few months to save money before buying an apartment.
She loaded 3 suitcases, her computer and some boxes into a rental car.
Mireille remained behind the window.
She did not go downstairs.
Neither did Julien.
Alain, meanwhile, was standing near the gate.
— Where are you going?
— At Elodie’s for a few days. Then I’ll look for accommodation.
— You could stay. We can sort this out.
Camille closed the trunk.
— That’s exactly what I’m doing.
His father lowered his eyes.
– I’m sorry.
She froze.
For years, those 3 words would have been enough to bring her back.
This time, she replied:
Are you sorry because I discovered the truth, or because you understand what you did to me?
Alain opened his mouth.
No sound came out.
Camille got into the car.
She had her answer.
A few days later, she rented a bright apartment on the 4th floor of a quiet building in Angers.
On the first night, she ate a pizza sitting on a cardboard box because her table hadn’t been delivered yet.
She had almost nothing.
A sofa was ordered but it hasn’t arrived.
2 mugs.
An old lamp.
Mismatched plates lent by Elodie.
