Two lawyers followed behind him, each bearing their own briefcases.
Maxence knocked on the carved wooden door.
Inside, Abigai Caillemotte served them tea and cookies, as she’d known they would be coming. Her long hair, the color of dark honey, was coiled into a sleek bun on the back of her head.
She was pretty, Maxence had to acknowledge, in a sturdy sort of way. Psychoanalyzing Pierre for his attraction to her that had cost him everything, including his own life, was fruitless.
Why did people do things?
Because they did.
Why did some people fall in love with people who were absolutely wrong for them in every way?
Because they did.
Why did that love sometimes become an obsession that destroyed them?
Because it did.
Maxence did not speak as the lawyers laid out the paperwork to provide Abigai Caillemotte with a middle-class income for her life and included the deed to the house where they sat. Her children would each have an inheritance when they turned eighteen and another when they turned thirty that was suitable but not extravagant. It was significantly more than most royal bastards received.
Abigai Caillemotte wept as she signed the paperwork, begging Maxence’s forgiveness and trying to wheedle more money and a vacation home in Monaco, ostensibly so that their children would know the land of their father.
That was not possible, one of the lawyers explained.
Maxence did not speak.
A larger cash settlement immediately would do much to assuage her grief after the death of the man she’d loved enough to bear so many children with, she insisted.
Maxence still said nothing.
The lawyers offered her the documents again.
In the end, she took what they’d offered, which was more than generous.
As they were leaving, Abigai threw herself at Maxence, exclaiming how much he looked like Pierre and how much she missed him. She begged Maxence to come and visit her and the children so that they would know their father’s family.
“I am sorry, Madame Caillemotte,” Maxence said. “That would not be appropriate.”
Eighteen minutes after they’d arrived, they left the house to return to the helicopter and Monaco, and Maxence took one last look at the children in the garden.
As they were running through the dappled shade, tossing a ball to each other, two who must be Pierre’s natural children were an echo through time of himself and Pierre playing at Le Rosey between classes.
As they got older, Maxence would keep an eye on the children to ensure they had everything they needed. If necessary, he would intervene, but asking Maxence to maintain ties with a woman whom he suspected was just as manipulative and narcissistic as his brother had been was asking too much. Abigai Caillemotte had demanded to attend Pierre’s marriage to Flicka, danced with him during the reception, and insisted that Pierre stay with her on Flicka’s wedding night.
Pierre had taken advantage of Abigai Caillemotte, that was certain, but Caillemotte had been a willing and enthusiastic participant in the tragedy that had led to his downfall and suicide.
Chapter Eleven
A Much More Joyous Settlement
Dree
At the convent across Monaco’s invisible border with France, the good sisters Ndaya and Disanka had prepared lunch for Maxence and Dree again. There were hugs all around, and Disanka hugged Dree especially hard, rubbing her shoulder and asking after her health and her family. Dree did the same, and they all smiled together.
Maxence smiled when they leaned in to hug him, laughing and teasing him in French, but there was something formal about him. It wasn’t anger. He wasn’t mad at them. He just seemed . . . somber.
Lunch was tasty. The chicken and fluffy white rice were easy to identify. The pale-yellow conical mound tasted like creamy, buttery potatoes with some yam mashed in, and the gravy that trickled over everything was rich with spices, chilis, and tomatoes.
