I moved away from the window before any service staff (or worse, the Dubois) could see me snooping. I stepped back and retraced my steps down the hallway, clenching my fists at my sides.
It was unfair. It was terribly unfair that they could spend all that money on just a weekend while I was sweating bullets trying to do the same. While I was forced to spend a million on… what? Parties! Clothes! I felt pathetic. And I felt that Laurent Dubois was an even more pathetic jerk for living like that. If those million pounds had come to me with no conditions… I could have used it to pay off my student debt. I could have hired someone to take care of my mother, help her with household chores, and cook for her. I could have saved it, just in case. In case I ever really,reallyneeded it.
Part of me knew it wasn’t my fault. What was I supposed to do if the instructions said I couldn’t use the money for anything that would leave a trace?
For a family like the Dubois, bathed in gold, too rich to realize what that looked like to others, such spending wouldn’t have been a headache. A million pounds was like loose change! For Gina or me, used to living off savings and discounts, always counting every penny, it was an almost impossible task.
Whoever was blackmailing me knew that. This was nothing but a cruel game.
I paused on the second floor, the brighter light spilling in from the windows. The sounds of clattering pots and chatter drifted up from the kitchen below, grounding me in the moment. My fists slowly relaxed, fingers unfurling as I took a deep breath. I couldn’t cry. Not over such nonsense.
My room was on that floor. I couldn’t find it. I retracedmy steps from the stairs I remembered passing when I left my room to the living room where I had met the head of the service. All the doors, seven in total, seemed to crowd in a corner of the hallway; all the same, all with a golden little sign that read “chambre.” One of those had to be my room.
I thought it was to the right, across from Gina’s. That narrowed it down to one of the rooms by the stairs, ruling out four others. I was pretty sure it wasn’t the one at the end of the hallway either.
That left me with two options: the middle room or the one closer to me. I chose the closer one, ready to knock just in case I was wrong. The last thing I needed was to walk in on someone in a compromising position.
Then, footsteps echoed in the hallway. I froze. They were coming down the stairs and, judging by the constant patter on the parquet, they were heading towards the rooms. And I didn’t want to be standing there in the middle of the hallway looking lost (which I was) or like I was spying (which, in a way, I was). I pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting it behind me. I kept my movements quiet, straining to hear any sounds in the room. I squinted, trying to make out anything in the gloom. The faint outline of a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and I could just discern the silhouette of a two-meter wardrobe directly in front of me. I pressed my back against the door, my heart racing.
This wasn’t my room.
I was in an office.
It looked like no one had been in here for quite some time. The curtains were drawn, a thick fabric falling to the carpeted floor, and the sunlight filtered through a small gap between the curtains, revealing dust particles hanging suspended inthe air. The sound of footsteps that had driven me into the office had ceased. A voice made me focus on the outside. On the conversation happening on the other side of the door.
It was Enzo.
“I know you don’t have the money,” he said, lowering his voice.
I assumed he was being careful in case someone overheard. Too bad he was talking inches from the door they’d be listening through.
“Did dad tell you?” Eloïse replied, urgency staining her words.
There was a pause, during which I assumed Enzo nodded.
“Still, I don’t need your help.”
“Eloïse, stop with that. I also know he’s not giving you anything.”
“I have my own income,” she defended herself, her voice breaking.
“Oh, really? Even with everything that’s going on?”
A thud echoed through the room, like someone slapping the wall. I jumped, tapping the door with my heel. I stiffened, almost expecting Enzo to burst into the room and see who was spying on them, too afraid of releasing my breath. But, after a heartbeat, they resumed their conversation.
“I’ve never needed mum’s money.”
“Begging her to leave you the family assets in her will seemed to indicate otherwise.”
Eloïse barely gave him time to finish the sentence.
“Don’t come at me with that, little brother. You can’t just show up now and act like you’re part of the family when you’ve been gone for years!”
“You’re still my sister. You know it could take months forthe Larousse thing to get sorted. Months! Damn it, Eloïse, it could takeyears.”
“It won’t take that long for me to get the inheritance, I…”
“We both know that Larousse didn’t do anything. He wasn’t the one who killed Mum, Elo. And you won’t see any money until they find the culprit, if they ever do.”
