Chapter 7 - The Portrait at Armand House

Federal agents reached Armand House first.

Or thought they did.

The front gate was open.

Security cameras dark.

One guard unconscious.

Alive.

Henri stared at the house.

“He is inside.”

Samuel ordered everyone to stay back.

Nicolas ignored him.

“So does he.”

He pointed at Henri.

Samuel swore.

Two agents entered.

Then three.

Clear downstairs.

Clear east wing.

The portrait was upstairs.

Celeste’s mother, Elise Armand.

Painted in blue.

Henri stood in front of it.

His face changed.

Celeste noticed.

“You loved her.”

Henri did not look at her.

“Yes.”

“Did she know?”

“Too much.”

Celeste went still.

Diana stepped closer.

“What did that mean?”

Henri looked at the portrait.

“Elise found the accounts.”

Celeste’s face drained.

“My mother died from an aneurysm.”

Henri’s voice broke.

“That is what I was told.”

Nicolas stared.

“You never checked?”

“I was told there would be consequences if I did.”

Celeste looked at him with disbelief.

“So you buried her too.”

Henri closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

The word was barely audible.

He removed the portrait.

Behind it was a steel safe.

Open.

Empty.

Henri whispered:

“No.”

Samuel looked inside.

Scratches.

Fresh.

Victor had beaten them.

Celeste turned.

“What was in there?”

“Ledger copies.”

“What else?”

Henri hesitated.

Diana noticed.

“What else?”

“A recording.”

Nicolas stared.

“Of Victor?”

Henri shook his head.

“Of Elise.”

Celeste stopped breathing.

“My mother?”

“Yes.”

“What did she record?”

Henri looked at her.

“Victor threatening her.”

Celeste’s knees weakened.

Nicolas caught her.

She did not pull away.

A federal agent shouted from downstairs.

“Movement.”

Then a gunshot.

Samuel drew his weapon.

Everyone froze.

Another shot.

A window shattered.

An SUV tore away from the rear drive.

Victor.

Samuel shouted into his radio.

Agents ran.

Nicolas looked out.

Victor had the evidence.

Henri grabbed his phone.

Celeste stared.

“Who are you calling?”

“No one.”

But Nicolas saw the screen.

A banking app.

Henri transferred one dollar.

Then another.

Then another.

Diana frowned.

“What are you doing?”

Henri looked at Nicolas.

“Sending a signal.”

“To who?”

Henri’s face changed.

“Elise.”

Celeste stared.

“My mother is dead.”

Henri looked at her.

“No.”

Silence.

Celeste stopped breathing.

Nicolas stared.

Henri whispered:

“She is alive.”

Celeste slapped him.

Hard.

Henri did not move.

“You let me bury my mother.”

“Yes.”

“You told me she died.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Victor poisoned her.”

Diana covered her mouth.

Henri continued.

“She survived.”

Celeste’s face collapsed.

“Where?”

“I moved her.”

“Where?”

“Quebec.”

Celeste shook her head violently.

“No.”

Henri held up his phone.

“The one-dollar transfers are an emergency code.”

“You have spoken to her?”

“Not directly.”

“For twelve years?”

“Yes.”

Celeste started crying.

Nicolas stared at Henri.

“You repeated exactly what happened to Diana.”

Henri looked broken.

“I thought I learned from Marco.”

Diana laughed in disbelief.

“You learned the wrong lesson.”

Henri looked at her.

“I kept Elise alive.”

“And killed her in her daughter’s life.”

Henri closed his eyes.

His phone rang.

Unknown number.

He answered.

A woman’s voice.

“Elise.”

Henri’s knees almost gave out.

Celeste grabbed the phone.

“Mom?”

Silence.

Then:

“Celeste?”

She began sobbing.

The room changed.

A dead woman was alive again.

Elise whispered:

“Where is your father?”

Celeste looked at Henri.

“Here.”

“Victor has the recording.”

Henri’s face hardened.

“How do you know?”

“He called me.”

Everyone froze.

Elise continued.

“He wants me to meet him.”

Nicolas took the phone.

“Mrs. Armand.”

“Who is this?”

“Nicolas Moretti.”

A pause.

“Marco’s son.”

“Yes.”

Elise inhaled.

“Do not let Henri come.”

Henri stepped forward.

“Elise.”

She heard him.

“Henri, no.”

His face broke.

“Where are you?”

Elise whispered:

“Victor gave me an address.”

Samuel took out a pen.

“Tell us.”

Elise read it.

An old freight terminal.

Owned by Moretti Holdings.

Nicolas knew it.

His father had closed it fifteen years earlier.

Samuel looked at the agents.

“We move now.”

Celeste held the phone.

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“I am coming.”

Henri shook his head.

“No.”

Celeste looked at him.

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This time she did not cry.

“You do not get to decide that anymore.”