— Do you really want to keep saying that this is your home?
Inès is turning white.
— Romain ?
He ignored her voice.
— You’re mixing our divorce with business decisions.
— No. You’re the one who mixed up my divorce, my business, and a funding request.
Étienne turned another page.
Nordval was to buy land near Aix-les-Bains. A private project, outside of Delmas Patrimoine, financed partly by money from Delmas, partly by that of Vidal Agencement, and partly by 300,000 euros from a company called Albaron Capital.
Camille recognized the manager’s name.
Genevieve Delmas.
Romain’s mother.
This time, the pain was strange. Geneviève had never truly liked her, but she had always respected her professional judgment. If she had invested, it was because Romain had lied to her too.
Camille’s phone vibrated.
Her lawyer, Maître Salomé Caron.
“Don’t sign anything. Ask him to leave the property. Keep the documents safe. Board meeting tomorrow.”
Camille looked up.
— You have 5 minutes to get out.
Romain rit.
— Do you think a filing cabinet and a camera are going to destroy 14 years of work?
Camille replied softly:
— No. Your signatures will do it.
He walked towards the filing cabinet. Étienne placed a hand on it.
— Don’t even try.
Inès grabbed her coat, trembling.
— Romain, we’re leaving.
For the first time that evening, he appeared alone.
Camille called to him from the doorstep.
— Romain.
He turned around.
She pointed to the pen that had remained on the table.
— You’re forgetting what you wanted me to use.
He did not take it back.
And the next morning, the council discovered that the 1.6 million was only the tip of the iceberg.
PART 4
At 8:30 a.m., the villa’s kitchen looked less like a home and more like a crisis room. The rain had stopped, but the lake still had a steely sheen. Camille hadn’t slept. She had only changed her sweater, made coffee, lined up the documents on the large oak table, and watched the sun rise as if the world dared to go on.
Maître Salomé Caron had arrived first, with her computer and that dry way of speaking which reassured Camille more than any gentleness.
— From now on, no private conversations with Romain. Everything will be done in writing or through a lawyer.
Étienne had joined the meeting via videoconference with his own counsel. Then Paul Merlet, Delmas Patrimoine’s corporate lawyer, was called in. He reread the initial documents without a word.
When he took off his glasses, Camille understood that he had stopped seeing a complicated divorce. He was seeing a fire.
— Did the council approve Nordval?
— No, said Camille.
— Did you approve the transfer from the Sainte-Claire program?
— Non.
— Did Romain declare his personal interest in Nordval?
– Never.
Paul Merlet pinched the bridge of his nose.
— The administrators need to be convened urgently.
At noon, the summonses were sent out. At 3 p.m., Romain appeared on screen, seated in a hotel office, surrounded by his new lawyer and a composure already showing cracks. Marc Lenoir, the financial director, logged on from his apartment. His face seemed too large for his shirt collar.
Romain did not deny Nordval. He spoke of an “opportunistic acquisition vehicle”, a “strategic window”, a “temporary arrangement”.
Camille listened to him use the words that served to cover the gaps.
Paul Merlet asked:
— If Delmas Patrimoine advanced 1.6 million euros, why is Delmas Patrimoine not listed in the capital of Nordval?
Romain replied:
— The documents were being processed.
— Yet you, Madame Vidal and Monsieur Lenoir, were already listed as beneficiaries.
– Draft.
— And the waiver clause requested from Ms. Delmas specifically covered the period of the transfers.
Romain’s lawyer intervened:
— Divorce has no place in this meeting.
Paul Merlet raised his head.
— He has a lot to worry about if the president tried to get a partner to waive transactions that he had not disclosed to her.
No screen moved for several seconds.
The board voted to immediately remove Romain from his position pending an independent audit. Marc Lenoir was also suspended. Access to the accounts was blocked. Company equipment was protected. The auditors were notified.
Romain burst out laughing.
— You can’t remove the founder from his own group!
An administrator, Bernard Faure, simply replied:
— We just did it.
Camille felt no joy. Delmas Patrimoine had 126 employees. Families. Loans. Projects underway. If Romain had damaged the company enough, there wouldn’t just be a disgraced husband. There would be lost jobs.
When Paul asked if she would agree to take over the chairmanship of the council temporarily, she sensed the opposite trap: becoming the one who would be accused of having orchestrated this whole affair to take her place.
She replied:
— For 30 days. No more. And with independent operational management.
It was his first truly free decision in a long time.
The audit lasted for weeks. It didn’t turn everything into a scandal, and it was almost more inflammatory. Some expenses were legitimate. Some reimbursements were misclassified. Some trips had a genuine business component.
But 61,000 euros in expenses related to Inès had no place in the accounts. Neither did the bracelet. Nor several hotel nights. And above all, the transfers to Nordval had indeed been made without clear authorization, even though Romain, Marc, and Inès were supposed to personally benefit from them.
The villa appeared in a bank file as an “asset that can be mobilized after marital reorganization”.
Camille lingered on those three words for a long time.
Marital reorganization.
Her divorce wasn’t a personal ending. It was a piece in a financing plan.
Romain had promised a bank that an asset he didn’t control would become available. He had promised Inès a house he didn’t own. He had promised his mother an investment backed by Camille. He had promised Marc a 15% share. He had promised himself that everything would be sorted out afterward.
