After the signing.
After the humiliation.
After the silence.
Geneviève Delmas called Camille 12 days later. Her voice, usually so harsh, carried a new weariness.
— Romain told me that you supported the project near Aix-les-Bains.
— I didn’t even know it existed.
A long silence followed.
— So he lied to me too.
Camille did not reply.
Geneviève continued:
— I raised a brilliant man.
– Yes.
— I would have preferred to be able to say just idiot.
Camille closed her eyes. She would have preferred to hate Geneviève more simply. But the old woman had lost 300,000 euros, and something even more humiliating: the illusion that her son at least respected his own mother.
Nordval’s downfall came without a dramatic scene. No handcuffs outside the villa. No courtroom filled with whispering people. A registered letter. A missed deadline. A seller who kept part of the deposit. Negotiations. Lawyers. Money recovered, but not all of it.
Romain’s great secret empire never built a single building.
Inès asked to speak to Camille under the supervision of lawyers. She arrived without her bracelet, looking drawn, clutching a file tightly against her.
Camille did not offer him coffee.
— Are you here to apologize or to salvage what can be salvaged?
Inès lowered her eyes.
— The 2.
Camille almost laughed, but no sound came out.
Inès explained that Romain had told her that Camille wanted to leave the group, that the villa was “practically settled,” and that Étienne would approve the investment after the first profits. She also confessed what mattered most to her.
— I didn’t check because I wanted it to be true.
Camille never forgot that phrase.
Inès had wanted to believe in a version of the world where she wasn’t a married woman entering another woman’s house. Romain had offered her this lie. She had worn it like her beige coat.
Then she gave them the messages stored on her personal phone.
One of them said:
“Camille will never relinquish control voluntarily.”
Another :
“Easier if she thinks the villa is exposed.”
A third one:
“She hates public conflicts. She will sign.”
Camille placed the phone on the table.
That’s what hurt him the most.
Not just adultery.
Romain knew her. He knew she avoided shouting, that she preferred to negotiate, that she could accept an unjust loss to protect a fragile peace. He had taken this trait of love and weariness and turned it into a tool.
In the months that followed, the divorce became what real divorces are: thick files, conflicting valuations, accounting audits, and dreary meetings in overheated offices. No judge ruled Camille victorious in 20 minutes. She didn’t win everything. Romain didn’t lose everything.
But things were named.
The villa remained the property of Atelier Morel Participations. The mixed expenses were corrected. Camille’s shares in Delmas Patrimoine remained hers. Romain retained some of his shares but permanently lost his position as director. The group sought compensation for the irregular transactions. The bank submitted its own information. Marc cooperated. Inès had to file a civil suit against Étienne and their company.
The hardest part for Camille was giving her statement.
Romain’s lawyer asked:
— Mrs. Delmas, did your husband contribute to the success of Delmas Patrimoine?
– Yes.
Romain looked up, surprised.
— Did he work hard?
– Yes.
— Has his reputation brought in business?
– Yes.
Camille didn’t want to lie to get revenge. She had spent too many years being erased to erase someone else in turn.
Then Salome questioned Romain.
— Has Camille designed several major programs?
– Yes.
— Did she participate in the funding decisions?
– Yes.
— Did she own 38% of the group before the separation?
– Yes.
— Did you ask him to reduce his voting rights?
– Yes.
— Had you revealed Nordval before asking him to sign?
This time, he couldn’t find a formula.
— Non.
That “no” weighed more heavily than any insult.
Almost 18 months after the lake party, Romain accepted a plea bargain for specific offenses: misleading statements related to financing, concealing personal interests in a transaction, and misusing social funds for certain benefits. He wasn’t punished for all the pain he had caused. The justice system can’t account for everything. But it accounted for enough.
During the hearing, the judge asked him:
— Had Madame Delmas agreed to the use of the villa to support this financing?
Romain replied:
— Non.
— Did you know that she hadn’t accepted?
– Yes.
— So why was this asset presented as available?
He looked at his hands.
— Because I thought I would get her agreement in the divorce settlement.
Camille, sitting at the back, felt her breath catch.
Everything was there.
The 20 minutes.
The teacher in the living room.
The colored documents.
The pen.
The room that Inès was commenting on as if she had already inherited it.
It wasn’t a couple’s argument that had spiraled out of control. It was calculated pressure, disguised as a romantic breakup.
Romain received a sentence measured in years, not decades. There was restitution, prohibitions, civil obligations, and a fall from grace. Delmas Patrimoine survived with an independent director, Hélène Ward, a 58-year-old woman who cared neither for Romain’s legend nor for Camille’s grief. She wanted clean accounts, completed projects, and decent coffee in the boardroom.
Camille remained president of the council for two years, then gradually withdrew. She reopened a small architecture firm under her birth name: Camille Morel Studio. Her first project was a 12-unit residence near Chambéry, tiny compared to the Delmas projects, but she knew every window, every preserved tree, every family that would come to live there.
The villa remained hers for a long time.
People thought she would sell it immediately, because of the humiliation she had suffered there. She didn’t. She replaced the cream-colored chairs, repainted the desk, and converted part of the ground floor into a studio. The house finally became hers in a way that went beyond a simple deed.
