"Good." He activates the recorder, states the date, time, location, and names of everyone present. Then he looks at me. "Let's start at the beginning. When did you first become aware you were being surveilled?"
I take a breath, organize my thoughts. This is the story I've been living but saying it out loud makes it different. More real. More permanent.
Luc's fingers curl over my shoulder with steady pressure, the touch saying what he won't speak aloud:I'm here. You're not alone.
"Recently. Photographs were delivered to me at various locations which indicated whoever sent them knows my routineand the places I frequent. Professional quality images taken inside Dominion, a private club I'm a member of." I keep my voice level. "The images showed me in the club's private rooms during scenes."
"Scenes," Andy repeats, not as a question but as confirmation. His tone stays neutral, clinical. "You're referring to BDSM scenes. Negotiated power exchange between consenting adults."
He uses the terminology like someone who knows it. There's no stumbling over words, no loaded judgment. His delivery is matter-of-fact, the same tone he'd use to describe any other activity.
"Yes," I say carefully. "The photographs showed me in submissive positions during private scenes with various partners."
"Multiple partners over what time period?"
"The metadata showed dates spanning several weeks. The most recent images were from a scene that occurred the night before the photographs were delivered."
Andy makes notes on a tablet. "And the delivery method?"
"Left on my desk at LaCroix Petroleum. Building security reviewed footage but didn't find anything useful. Whoever delivered them knew how to avoid cameras."
"Or had access to bypass building security entirely." He glances at Luc. "Your team found the hidden cameras at Dominion later that same day?"
"Correct," Luc says from behind me. His voice is harder than mine, darker. "Multiple cameras planted in the private rooms, positioned in security blind spots. The tech was high-end, professional grade."
Andy nods. "And you identified one individual who planted the most recent camera. Julien LaSalle, posing as maintenance personnel."
"Yes." I force steadiness into my voice. "Julien was—he was a Dom I scened with occasionally. About a year ago. The relationship ended when his behavior became controlling outside of negotiated scenes. He didn't respect boundaries."
"Boundaries," Andy says, and again the word carries no judgment. Just professional acknowledgment. "In the lifestyle context, that would mean he violated protocols. Tried to extend power exchange beyond what was negotiated in scene."
I nod. "Yes. Exactly that."
"And when you ended the relationship, how did he respond?"
"Poorly. He showed up at my office, sent messages demanding explanations, accused me of leading him on." The memories taste sour. "Eventually he stopped, but there was always this sense that he was still watching. Still waiting for an opportunity."
"An opportunity to what?"
"To prove I needed him. To demonstrate that I couldn't actually function without his control." I hold his stare. "In the lifestyle, most Doms want to provide structure and support. But Julien wanted submission to serve his own need. There was no reciprocity, no actual power exchange. He wanted me dependent."
Andy's expression doesn't change, but his posture shifts slightly. He understands this on a level deeper than professional training.
Luc's grip on my shoulder tightens. Anchoring me.
"Let's talk about the escalation," Andy says. "The photographs were the first overt action. What happened next?"
I walk him through the timeline. The photographs that were delivered to my office, my penthouse and my gym. The surveillance warehouse Andy's team found with equipment aimed at Dominion.
With each detail, Andy takes meticulous notes. He asks clarifying questions that show he understands the technical aspects, the operational logistics, the timeline of escalation. But more than that, his questions about the lifestyle elements carry the same precision.
"And your assessment is that Julien wasn't working alone."
"The surveillance operation is too sophisticated, too well-funded. The shell corporation that purchased the warehouse property, the professional-grade equipment, the coordination required to plant cameras without detection." I glance back at Luc. His expression is unreadable, but his grip on my shoulder stays firm. "Rapier Strategic's investigation shows financial connections to my uncle, Armand Deveraux."
"Your uncle who sits on LaCroix Petroleum's board and has been positioning to challenge your leadership."
"Yes." The word comes out harder than I intended. "Julien provided the obsession, the personal vendetta. Armand provides the resources and the political motivation. Together they're trying to destroy both my personal life and my professional position."
