André looks uncertain, his gaze darting between Officer Morrison, the department chief, and me.
“Do it,” I urge him.
Moments later, the evidence is displayed for everyone to see. The documents reveal that I never received the highest grades in class or the recommendation letters I had boasted about in my resume.
“There it is,” the department chief concludes with a note of finality.
André has a mix of disappointment and surprise on his face that I’m not able to digest right now. I avoid looking at him.
“What now?” I ask the woman.
“Now,” she says, standing up and letting Officer Morrisontake her seat again, “you need to end this story, Vera. You are accused of being an accomplice in a money laundering operation. You knew where those million pounds came from, although the Dubois family is the main culprit here. The money from the Club Montari, which you mentioned, has been laundered right under our noses for years.”
I clench my jaw, holding back word vomit. I have to remain silent, grappling with the truth. I have my share of guilt, though I didn’t understand the depths of what I was caught up in. There’s something more hiding in here—something that, if left unsaid, could end up ruining many innocent lives.
“Can I continue?
“Go ahead,” says Officer Alonso.
I take a breath and resume my story.
Chapter 32
I didn’t get anything clear from my conversation with Eloïse. We talked about Enzo. She didn’t know why he had given me the money, and I still didn’t believe her. Eloïse had told me it was better to stop investigating. That it wasn’t in my interest to learn more about her family, that the money was none of my business.
Now I see she was trying to spare me trouble.
There’s no point in replaying the conversation, given how things have turned out. Let’s move on… half an hour. Yes, it happened half an hour later.
Eloïse had already left the room. Restless and unable to stay put, I decided to find Gina, hoping she was still in her room so we could have some privacy to talk. Instead, I found her in the living room on the second floor, surrounded by some of the Dubois family members and friends who were still in the house. Bastian was there too, and he gave me a sideways glance, accompanied by a tentative smile. I curled into the far corner of the room, creating an unspoken barrier between us.
We all waited for Mr. Dubois and Talia to arrive and call us to dinner. The thought of leaving the house made the anticipation almost unbearable.
My stomach twisted in a tight knot of anxiety.
“Can we talk?” I whispered when I reached Gina’s side.
She was looking at the photographs hanging on the wall, all framed in ornate, golden frames.
“Now?” she whispered back, not taking her eyes off the photos.
“Now.”
“Could it be after dinner?” she asked. “I want to enjoy this all a little more before we leave.”
“Sure,” I said, biting my cheek. “I’m sorry. What are you looking at?”
Gina pointed to one of the photographs. “This is a family snapshot from when they were children, when their parents were still together.”
I stared at the image. A very young Antonia Hawtrey-Moore was holding a small, chubby Eloïse; Laurent Dubois, his jaw tightened, muscles straining beneath the skin, had his hand on the shoulder of a little Enzo, who couldn’t have been older than eight. Next to Antonia was a young woman,her smile directed at the camera, and beside Laurent Dubois stood a man in a suit, his head turned toward Antonia, his attention focused on her and not on the camera.
“Is that…?” I asked, studying the way his arms hung by his sides, a subtle rigidity in his stance.
“Norman, the chauffeur,” Gina said. “Eloïse told me that, as her father’s friend and employee, he was always with them. The other woman… I think her name was Ivet. Yes, that was it. She took care of the children.”
“Ivet?” I asked. “The same Ivet I visited a few days ago?”
Gina’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, yes! I’d forgotten about that!”
