“I’m sorry, Pauline,” I say. “Please, go on.”
“Sarrazin considered Geoffroy’s promises, and the fact Millie was born and raised at Fort Vauclairt, while Alex hasn’t lived in Rohinn since he was three, lacking strong ties to the land.”
A rush of air leaves me. “So, she didn’t buy Derek’s arguments?”
“Nope,” Pauline replies. “Sarrazin ruled that the principle of representation overrides the entail in your case.”
Brigitte lets out a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob. “Thank God.”
Pauline’s voice lifts, triumphant. “Until Millie turns eighteen, you’re in charge as her legal guardian.”
I lean back against the chair and press my hand to my mouth. A heavy thudding fills my ears.
Brigitte heaves herself up, swaying, and pulls me into a wine-scented hug.
Pauline’s voice comes through the speaker. “I’ll send over the written decision, but you can celebrate. It’s official.”
“Thank you,” I manage, my throat tight. “Thank you for everything.”
“I’ll let you go tell Millie,” Pauline says. “Enjoy this moment.”
I hang up.
Brigitte shakes as she holds me. “Phew. I was starting to think Geoffroy’s karma was taking it out on Millie.”
I pull back. “What do you mean?”
“That Millie was paying for her father’s sin,” she blurts. “That the universe was returning Alex his due.”
She lets out a sob.
“There, there,” I say, patting her back.
I wonder if by Geoffroy’s “sin” she meant his awful treatment of me. But then, what’s Alex got to do with it?
Brigitte wipes her face with the back of her hand. “Turns out there’s no karma, after all. And no—what’s the name—poetic justice. Let’s drink to that!”
She stumbles toward the wine bottle, laughing and crying.
But I’m already halfway to the door. “I’ll be right back. I need to tell Millie.”
“Go, go.” She waves me off, refilling her glass. “Tell our duchess!”
In the hallway, I pause, breathing in the cool air outside her room. I could go back and press her about what she meant. But she’s drunk. And I have better things to do than listen to her ramblings.
I head straight for Millie’s room and knock.
“Come in,” she calls.
She’s on her bed, a textbook open on her lap and her hair falling in her face.
“Maman?” She looks up and frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I grin though my voice comes out shaky. “In fact, everything’s right.”
She tilts her head. “You’re acting weird.”
“Because I have news.”
