Chapter 7 - Genevieve Laurent Opened the Door

The address was outside Quebec City.

Small house.

Blue shutters.

Snow along the road.

Camille stood on the porch for almost a full minute before knocking.

Adrian stayed beside her.

Thomas waited near the car.

Mr. Bell stayed with him.

I stood several steps back.

The door opened.

A woman in her late fifties looked out.

Dark hair gone mostly silver.

Camille’s eyes.

Camille’s mouth.

No one needed a photograph.

“Mom?”

Genevieve Laurent closed her eyes.

Then opened them.

“Camille.”

Camille did not move.

Neither did Genevieve.

Seventeen years sat between them.

Finally Camille asked:

“Why?”

One word.

Not hello.

Not are you really alive.

Why.

Genevieve stepped aside.

We entered.

Her house was modest.

Books everywhere.

No luxury.

No Laurent money.

No Vale money.

Just a woman who had built another life.

Thomas came in last.

Genevieve saw him.

“You finally went home.”

Thomas nodded.

“Yes.”

“Too late.”

“Yes.”

Again.

No defense.

Genevieve looked at Adrian.

“You look like your father.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

“I’ve been hearing that a lot.”

She almost smiled.

Then Camille asked again.

“Why did you leave me?”

Genevieve sat down.

“Because I was afraid.”

Camille stared.

“Of Dad?”

“Yes.”

“Of Victor Vale?”

“Yes.”

“Of Sloane?”

“Yes.”

“Of Thomas?”

Genevieve looked at him.

“No.”

Thomas looked away.

Camille’s voice broke.

“Then why didn’t you take me?”

Genevieve’s eyes filled.

“Because your father promised me you would be safe if I disappeared.”

Camille laughed bitterly.

“He raised me inside the lie.”

“I know.”

“You sent postcards.”

“Yes.”

“Once a year.”

“Yes.”

“That was enough for you?”

“No.”

Genevieve cried then.

Not elegantly.

Not quietly.

Real grief.

“It was what I allowed myself because if I contacted you directly, I would have come back.”

Camille stood.

“You should have.”

Genevieve nodded.

“Yes.”

That answer changed something.

Not forgiveness.

But the argument.

No excuses.

Just failure admitted.

Adrian sat across from Genevieve.

“What happened twenty-one years ago?”

She looked at Thomas.

Then Mr. Bell.

Then answered.

“Thomas found the offshore accounts. I had already found part of them through Marc.”

Thomas continued.

“Victor ordered me to destroy the copies.”

Genevieve nodded.

“He refused.”

Adrian stared at his father.

Thomas said, “I thought I could expose everything.”

“But you disappeared.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Genevieve answered.

“Because Victor had Adrian.”

The room went silent.

Adrian looked at her.

“What?”

Thomas’s face changed.

Genevieve continued.

“Your grandfather told Thomas that if he went public, custody lawyers would make sure he never saw you again.”

Adrian stared at his father.

“My mother was alive then.”

“Yes.”

Thomas nodded.

“But she was ill.”

Adrian’s mother had died two years later.

Cancer.

He had been thirteen.

Thomas looked at his son.

“My father controlled the company, the lawyers, almost everything around us.”

Adrian’s voice went flat.

“So you left me with him.”

Thomas looked destroyed.

“Yes.”

Camille watched them.

Two children.

Different families.

Same wound.

Parents who called abandonment protection.

Genevieve opened a cabinet.

Inside were three binders.

Original records.

The lake house records.

Thomas stood.

“You kept them.”

“For twenty-one years.”

“Why?”

“Because evidence is the only reason men like Victor ever fear ordinary people.”

She placed them on the table.

Adrian looked at the binders.

“Is Sloane in there?”

“Yes.”

“Marc?”

“Yes.”

“Thomas?”

Genevieve looked at him.

“No.”

Thomas closed his eyes.

Adrian noticed.

“So my father really tried to stop it.”

Genevieve nodded.

“He did.”

Thomas looked at his son.

That was the first kindness the truth had given him.

Not innocence.

He had still left.

Still lied.

Still watched from a distance.

But he had not been part of the theft.

Camille asked the question that mattered most to her.

“Did Dad send me to Adrian?”

Genevieve looked at her.

“Yes.”

Camille’s face fell.

Then Genevieve added:

“But not for the reason Thomas thinks.”

Adrian frowned.

Genevieve opened the last binder.

Inside was a copy of a letter.

From Marc.

To Sloane.

Eight years earlier.

One sentence underlined.

IF CAMILLE CAN GET CLOSE TO ADRIAN, SHE MAY LEARN WHERE THOMAS HID THE FINAL ACCOUNT.

Adrian looked at Camille.

She looked sick.

Genevieve continued.

“Your father believed Adrian might know where Thomas was.”

Camille whispered:

“I didn’t.”

“I know.”

“Then why did he keep pushing us together?”

Genevieve looked at the engagement photograph on Camille’s phone.

“Because somewhere along the way, the plan stopped being only his.”

Camille stared.

Genevieve finished quietly.

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“You fell in love with Adrian.”

And for the first time since the gala, nobody argued with that.