“No,” Claire said.
Her voice was quiet. Everyone looked at her.
“You sat here and told your wife that I was simple. You said my mother had no courage. You talked about your bloodline like I should be grateful to enter it.” She looked straight at Philippe. “So I think the conversation is just getting started.”
I had never been prouder of her.
Philippe’s face reddened. “You have no idea what happened forty years ago.”
“Then explain it,” Luca said.
Philippe looked at me. Then something strange entered his expression. Not fear. Calculation.
“You think you know the Marchand case, Margaret?”
“I know enough.”
“No. You know what you were allowed to see.”
He reached inside his blazer. Luca moved instinctively toward Claire, but Philippe only removed his phone. He tapped through several files. Then he laid the phone in front of me.
An old document filled the screen. A scanned payment authorization.
My eyes dropped to the signature. Everything inside me stopped.
Richard Doyle.
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