They Thought I Couldn’t Understand Their French. By Dessert, Their Family Name Had Become the Most Dangerous Thing at the Table.

.

“Beaumont,” I said softly.

Philippe’s jaw tightened. His mother’s family name, I suddenly remembered from a genealogy attachment buried in the old file. Beaumont.

Luca stood. “Dad?”

Philippe said nothing.

“What happened to Marchand Textile?”

“It was a failed company.”

“That isn’t what she’s saying.”

Hélène whispered, “Philippe, tell him.”

His head snapped toward her. “You will stay out of this.”

There it was. A tone I knew. Richard’s tone. Not loud. Just practiced enough to make another person shrink.

But Hélène didn’t shrink. Not this time. She looked directly at Luca.

“Your father changed his surname after the bankruptcy.”

Luca stared at her. “What?”

“Beaumont was his mother’s maiden name.”

Philippe stood. “This conversation is finished.”

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