Ugh, what a mess.
Gina was here for Eloïse, but Bastian was here because of me and my connection to Garros. And I was headed straight for the Dubois mansion because of Enzo.
What. A damn. Mess.
On one hand, I had Enzo, looking for information about the money, and on the other, Bastian, investigating the connection between the Hawtrey-Moore family and Julian Garros’s case. I was playing with a double-edged knife.Tossing it in the air and juggling it. And I had a feeling that if I wasn’t careful, someone would end up getting hurt.
I hoped with all my heart it wouldn’t be me.
Excerpt from the testimony of Sebastian Saidi
Taken on Monday, November 2
SS: Yes… I remember the day. I had seen it on the news. Julian Garros, a man in his twenties who had managed to fool the police for years. I think what surprised me the most was that he seemed like a regular, ordinary person. The night before, he had been out bar hopping with a group of friends, as if he weren’t the most wanted forger in the country, as if the money paying for those drinks hadn’t come from politicians, big companies, billionaires.
Of course, I remember the day. He had been arrested a few hours earlier; the call came around noon. Just in time. We were all in the office, even Vera. My uncle was the one who took the call directly. After that, he called me into his office.
My uncle isn’t the type of man to keep secrets. If he wants to scold you, he does it, right then and there, whether it’s in front of Sarah at the reception or the delivery guy. If he wants to congratulate you, he sends you an unintelligible messageon WhatsApp. Or, if he sees you in person, he gives you a pat on the back. Simple, no fuss. That’s why I knew I hadn’t messed up or done anything that could be classified as good or bad. When my uncle asks to speak with you in his office, you know it’s a serious matter. You know it has nothing to do with you. You have to put aside personal feelings during work hours.
He told me that Saidi was going to represent Julian Garros. From that day until a verdict was reached, we were going to handle the case of the most wanted con artist. We were already the most reputable law firm, and a case like this would make our prestige rise… quite a bit, yes. He said there’d be press at our building’s doors as soon as the news broke and that we had to take care of our image. I thought he was telling me to look a bit sharper: tie my tie properly, button up all the buttons on my shirt… You know.
I must admit I also thought he was giving me the case as his assistant.
It wasn’t a crazy idea, right? I mean, I’m still in my third year of law school, and the other lawyers had been at Saidi for longer… but I’m the heir! I’ve never lost us a case. I’ve never had to tread lightly in front of an unfriendly judge.
And some say I’m good with cameras, not to brag.
When he dismissed me with a “Sebastian, tell Vera to come see me when she has a moment,” it felt like a bucket of cold water.
First, because I’m always the one running around giving damn messages to everyone. Second, what was with the “when she has a moment”? My uncle is the demanding type. The kind who doesn’t waste time. At least, that’s how he is with me. And third, because I understoodthe implications right away.
Vera Rodríguez was going to be the one to get the Julian Garros case.
So, I started gathering information. What did my uncle know? What did Vera know? I found out, to my disappointment, that it wasn’t much. What they knew was what the police already knew, what the public already knew. Maybe Vera managed to get more information out of Julian himself; I don’t know. That was the only area where she had an advantage over me.
I started investigating Julian’s alleged clients. If I couldn’t get information from the defendant, I’d get it from those who knew him best. I identified his friends, those who appeared in the photographs that British television had spread of Julian; they were a simple group. Working class, normal lives. We met one night in a bar; my friends ended up, by chance (that’s what they think, don’t ask me how I did it), striking up a conversation with them. They were tired of saying the same thing to everyone: that Julian was a regular guy, a working-class guy, with a normal life. A guy like them. I replied that a regular guy doesn’t have the damn mayor as a VIP client. After that, I didn’t see them again.
Soon after, I met the son of the boss of KawtAirlines. With him, it was easy; there was no trick (almost). He’s handsome and rich, and I’m handsome and rich. We spent two beautifulweeks getting to know each other in several hotels on the outskirts. I got to know him… in depth. Enough to know that, unlike me, he’s a spoiled daddy’s boy with no real ambitions. He had no idea how his family’s business worked, nor the slightest interest in ever working there. I admire and respect his stance. It’s not easy to be a “NEET” (Not in Education, Employment, or Training) by choice these days. It seems like everyone wants to be an entrepreneur or some shit like that. Not him. Good for him, all things considered. I would have spent more time with him if I hadn’t had a mission on my hands, but the guy wasn’t the right one to help me with the case, and I already had my next target in mind.
Eloïse Hawtrey-Moore.
(Pause.)
SS: She knew her family was involved in something shady. And I think she knew that I knew. And that it was better for us to know it together. Some secrets are better hidden the more people know about them. Besides, we get along well. Similar backgrounds, we’re both bi, we both were raised between Paris and London, we both like the same type of wine to accompany dinner.
As for the case… My uncle wasn’t going to give me the Julian Garros case. I’ve known that from the start. But Vera didn’t know that. It was fun playing against her, even if it was, at first, a secret game. Who can find out more about Garros? I saw her pacing around her office, practicing arguments, memorizing facts, and names. She was doing great for her first big case as the boss’s second-in-command. And she was nervous as hell. When she found out I intended (not really) to take the case from her, she was going to freak out. It was fun. I always intended for it to be fun.
I have nothing more to say.
SUNDAY, El Domingo, Le Dimanche
Chapter 22
We arrived at the mansion late in the evening, the car gliding through towering metal gates adorned with intricate floral designs, marking the boundary between the Dubois family’s estate and the outside world. We pulled up to the front of the house, where gardens stretched out, softly illuminated by lanterns nestled among the bushes, casting eerie, flickering shadows that painted the scene in a sombre glow. If I had been more awake, the place might have sent shivers down my spine, but all I could think of was sinking into a bed and escaping everything, even if just for a few hours.
Someone opened the car door for Gina and me, and I stepped out into the cool evening air.
“Sorry for leaving the party without telling you,” Enzo murmured as soon as my feet touched the ground. He extended his hand to help me out, and I took it.
