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He smiled faintly. “I couldn’t talk to you in France.”
My attention sharpened.
“Why not?”
He leaned forward slightly.
“Laurent listens to everything.”
Silence filled the room for a moment.
That was big.
Laurent wasn’t just bitter.
He was watching.
Moving.
Preparing.
“So you flew across the ocean to tell me that?”
“No.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded document.
Not thick.
Not legal papers.
Just a few sheets.
He slid them across the desk.
“Read.”
I opened the pages.
At first, it looked like business records.
Names.
Dates.
Properties.
I started reading the notes under the names.
And the room tilted in my head.
Delacroix family members.
Old men.
Board members.
Advisors.
Investors.
