I can see it in the tension around her eyes, the guarded way she's holding herself together.
"Fear's normal when foundations crack," I say. "You've built your whole life on control. Surrendering that feels like falling. But you didn't fall tonight. You flew."
Her breath catches. "Is that what it's supposed to feel like?"
"When it's real? Yes."
She nods slowly. Turning it over. Then she climbs out of the SUV and heads for the guest house. I watch until she's inside, door locked behind her, security system armed.
The feeds cycle through their loops when I pull them up on my phone. Everything's quiet. Perimeter secure. No alerts from Andy about Julien's phone.
But something's wrong. The pieces fit too cleanly. A professional stalker doesn't hand us his location unless he wants to be found.
I head inside the guest house. Water runs upstairs. Simone's in the shower, washing away the club, the surveillance, the violation of being watched.
The kitchen table becomes my command post. I open the laptop and spread case files across the surface.
Why plant a camera we'd find in under an hour?
The warehouse ping. The phone going dark right after. Too convenient. Too clean.
Unless he wanted us to find it.
I pull up his background again. Multiple former partners. Multiple restraining orders. Obsessive behavior. But also strategic enough to settle out of court with NDAs attached to all. Smart enough to avoid criminal charges despite clear stalking patterns.
This is someone who plans exits before he makes moves.
My phone buzzes. Text from Andy.
Julien's phone just pinged. LaCroix Petroleum headquarters.
He's at Simone's building right now.
I text Remy immediately.
Need you at the guest house. Now. Julien's at LaCroix Petroleum.
His response comes within seconds.
On my way.
I'm at the door when I hear the main house door open. Remy's crossing the lawn at a jog. He nods when he sees me, moves to the guest house entrance.
"She's upstairs," I tell him.
"Go. I've got her."
Now I move.
9
SIMONE
The shower runs hot enough to turn my skin pink, but it doesn't wash away what happened tonight. The scene at Dominion. The way Luc made me feel things I've spent years pretending I didn't need. The surveillance camera capturing—I don't even know how much. They found it at the end. Did it record the entire scene? Just part of it?
My hands shake as I work shampoo through my hair. The water streams down, and I focus on the physical sensation—heat, pressure, the clean scent of soap. Grounding myself in something concrete instead of spiraling into panic about what happens next.
The emergency board session. I'll be standing in front of executives who've questioned my leadership for years, defending myself against what I know will be Armand's motion to remove me as CEO, asking them to trust that I can still run the company while someone's using my private life as ammunition.
