However, as she finished her slice of pizza, she realized she had never heard such a sweet silence.
No one was shouting his name from another room.
No one was asking him for €400 “until Friday”.
No one explained to him that his money should be used to meet the needs of others before his own.
His phone vibrated.
MOM.
Camille turned it over on the table.
And continued eating.
The following week, she met Maître Claire Roussel, a lawyer recommended by a colleague.
Camille placed on her desk the copies given by her father, her old bank statements and the power of attorney that she had almost forgotten.
Claire read for almost an hour.
Then she looked up.
— Your father had a power of attorney, yes. But a power of attorney doesn’t give him the right to consider your money as his own.
Camille clasped her hands on her knees.
— So it’s not just… a family story?
Claire gave a serious look.
— Camille, €138,600 has disappeared from assets that belonged to you. We will need to reconstruct the transactions precisely. Some may fall under civil liability, and depending on the circumstances, under criminal law. But what is certain is that no one can resolve this by simply saying, “We’re family.”
Once again, hearing a stranger state the obvious almost made her want to cry.
For 7 years, his family had transformed the facts into opinions.
Perhaps Grandma wanted to help everyone.
Perhaps Alain was going to return the money.
Perhaps Camille didn’t need it as much.
Perhaps Julien was going through a difficult time.
With Claire, the “maybes” disappeared.
There were dates.
Bank transfers.
Amounts.
€29,000 for Julien’s study fees and debts.
€24,600 for 2 successive vehicles.
€18,000 for his rent.
Thousands of euros paid to cover Mireille’s revolving credit.
A significant sum was used when the parents had fallen behind on their mortgage.
Camille ran her finger over the printed lines.
His entire life seemed to be summed up in a single column: “debit”.
— Why didn’t I see anything?
Claire showed him the dates.
— You were abroad when the first transfers began. Then, your father spread the money over several years. And you yourself continued to send them money.
Camille gave a bitter laugh.
She had given them money while they were already spending hers.
However, the file revealed something unexpected.
Six months earlier, Alain had stopped all withdrawals from the remaining capital.
The €39,400 was still in a separate account.
Claire tapped the sheet of paper.
— That’s important.
Why would he have stopped now?
— Ask him.
Camille had no desire to do so.
But 4 days later, she agreed to meet her father in a small cafe near the Jardin des Plantes.
Alain was already seated when she arrived.
He had ordered 2 coffees.
Camille remained standing.
— I no longer drink coffee after 4 p.m.
He looked at the cup as if he had just realized that he no longer even knew his daughter’s habits.
– All right.
She sat down.
— Why did you stop taking the money 6 months ago?
Alain took a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket.
— Because I found it.
Camille immediately recognized Madeleine’s handwriting.
Her grandmother wrote with large, slanted letters, always very regular.
The letter had been written shortly before his death.
Madeleine spoke about Camille, about her almost excessive seriousness, about her way of always checking that others had enough before thinking about her.
Then came a passage that Alain had underlined.
Madeleine explained that she wanted to leave this money to her granddaughter because she was afraid that Camille would spend her life fixing the mistakes of others.
Camille stopped breathing for a few seconds.
— How long have you had this letter?
— I found it while emptying a box of papers.
— 6 months ago?
– Yes.
— And you still haven’t told me anything.
Alain looked out the window.
— I was ashamed.
— That’s not an answer.
— I was scared.
This time, Camille did not look away.
– What ?
— That you look at me exactly the way you look at me today.
She felt her throat tighten.
— So you preferred to continue lying to me.
– Yes.
He said it without making excuses.
This disarmed her more than it justified her.
Alain produced a second document.
He had sold his fishing boat.
The one he had been caring for for 12 years and whom he spoke of as a 5th member of the family.
He had also liquidated part of a personal investment.
Mireille and he were considering selling a small plot of land inherited from an uncle in Morbihan.
“Your lawyer contacted us,” he said. “I agreed to a repayment schedule.”
Camille flipped through the pages.
– For what ?
Alain’s eyes became moist.
— Because I taught you your whole life that an adult takes responsibility for their choices. And when I was afraid of losing the house, I stole my own daughter’s security.
Camille remained silent.
“Then I did worse,” he continued. “I used your money to prevent Julien from reaching his own limits. I thought I was helping him.”
— You made him dependent.
– I know.
— And me?
Her voice broke slightly.
— You taught me that the more reasonable I was, the more available I was to be used.
Alain lowered his head.
A tear fell onto the table.
Camille did not experience the satisfaction she had imagined.
She would have preferred that none of them had to cry.
But for the first time, she refused to dry tears she hadn’t caused.
— I do not forgive you today.
– I know.
— I will no longer pay your debts.
– I know.
— Nor Julien’s.
– All right.
— And if Mom starts telling the whole family again that I’m abandoning you, I’ll cut off the conversations too.
Alain nodded.
