Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Refused to Come Home

The flash drive contained one recording.

Old audio.

Bad quality.

Three male voices.

Thomas recognized his father immediately.

Adrian did too.

Victor Vale.

His grandfather.

A man Adrian had spent his childhood believing built everything through discipline and loyalty.

The recording said otherwise.

Victor ordered Marc Laurent to find Thomas.

He called Genevieve dangerous.

He called the records “family property.”

Then he said:

“If Thomas goes public, he stops being my son.”

Adrian paused the audio.

Nobody spoke.

Thomas stared at the table.

“I was twenty-nine.”

Adrian looked at him.

“I was eleven when you disappeared.”

Thomas closed his eyes.

“I know.”

“No.”

Adrian’s voice changed.

“You know the number. You don’t know what it was like.”

Thomas accepted that.

He did not defend himself.

That mattered.

Camille sat with Genevieve’s postcard in her hands.

“Why did my mother stay gone after Victor died?”

Thomas looked at Marc’s recording.

“Because Victor wasn’t the only one involved.”

Mr. Bell nodded.

“Some men stayed in the company.”

Adrian frowned.

“Who?”

Thomas looked at him.

“Men you promoted.”

That landed hard.

Adrian stood.

“Names.”

Thomas gave him four.

Two were dead.

One retired.

One still sat on the Vale Shipping board.

Richard Sloane.

Seventy.

Adrian’s godfather.

The man who had given the speech at Adrian’s mother’s funeral.

Adrian’s face became expressionless.

“What did Sloane do?”

Thomas answered.

“He handled the accounts after I disappeared.”

Camille looked up.

“And after my mother disappeared?”

“Yes.”

Adrian picked up his phone.

Thomas stopped him.

“Do not call him.”

Adrian laughed.

“You still think you get to tell me that?”

“No.”

Thomas shook his head.

“I think you should see what he does when he believes we know nothing.”

For once, Adrian listened.

Not because Thomas was his father.

Because it made sense.

We spent the next two days reviewing company records.

Sloane had approved payments to charities connected to Laurent trusts.

Small amounts.

Regular.

Easy to ignore.

Nora Blake was not an accountant.

But maids notice patterns.

So do people who serve dinners while powerful men believe they are invisible.

I remembered Sloane visiting the estate four months earlier.

Camille had left the dining room when he arrived.

Not dramatic.

Just fast.

I told Adrian.

He looked at Camille.

“You knew him.”

“My father knew him.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“How well?”

She looked tired.

“Well enough to know he hated my mother.”

Thomas leaned forward.

“Why?”

“Because she copied his signature.”

Everyone went still.

Camille continued.

“When I found the photographs last year, I also found one note from Mom. She wrote that Sloane had approved three transfers he later denied.”

Adrian looked at Thomas.

“You didn’t know that.”

“No.”

For the first time, Thomas looked surprised.

Camille had information neither man possessed.

That changed the room.

She was not only the woman sent into Adrian’s life.

She was also Genevieve’s daughter.

Her own person.

Her own witness.

Adrian noticed too.

“What else did the note say?”

Camille closed her eyes.

“That if Sloane was still close to the Vale family, I should trust no invitation from him.”

Adrian looked toward the window.

His godfather had invited them to dinner the next night.

To “repair the family.”

None of us had thought much of it.

Until then.

Adrian smiled without humor.

“Good.”

Thomas frowned.

“What?”

“We accept.”

Camille shook her head.

“No.”

Adrian looked at her.

“We need to know what he knows.”

“I agree.”

She held up the postcard.

“But not by walking into another room where older men decide what happens to us.”

Adrian stared at her.

Then nodded.

“What do you suggest?”

Camille thought for a moment.

“We make him come here.”

Sloane arrived the next evening.

He expected Adrian.

He found Thomas waiting too.

The old man stopped in the doorway.

For the first time since I had known Richard Sloane, he looked afraid.

“Thomas.”

Thomas stood.

“Richard.”

Sloane looked at Camille.

Then the silver pocket watch on the table.

Then the postcard.

His face changed.

“You found Genevieve.”

Camille whispered:

“No.”

A pause.

“But you know where she is.”

Sloane said nothing.

Adrian stepped forward.

“That was not a question.”

Sloane looked at him.

“She doesn’t want to be found.”

Camille’s eyes filled.

“Then let her tell me that herself.”

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Sloane closed his eyes.

And gave us an address.