Page 63 of Dominion’s Collar

"Thank you for meeting me," I say, and sit across from her.

"I should've done this years ago." Vivienne looks at me, then down at her hands, then at me again. "But there wasn't anyone to tell who'd listen."

I don't rush her. Rushing a source who's been holding silence this long is the fastest way to lose everything she's carrying. I order a coffee and let the silence sit between us.

"You know Claire was investigating Elysium," Vivienne says. "Not just participating. Investigating."

"I know she was asking questions." I pull from what I've gathered, not from assumption. "About incidents that were handled internally."

Vivienne shakes her head. "She wasn't just asking questions, Natalie. She'd identified someone."

The café noise becomes a wall around us. The couple at the next table arguing about parking. The barista calling a name that isn't ours.

I keep my breathing even.

"Claire noticed a submissive named Cécile Doucet," Vivienne says. "This was months before Claire died. Cécile was relatively new to Elysium. Confident, from what I could see. She participated in demonstrations, attended workshops. Then she changed."

"Changed how?"

"Like someone who's been cornered but doesn't have words for what cornered her. She stopped attending events unless she had to. She avoided certain parts of the club. She flinched when specific people approached her."

Vivienne picks up the café au lait and sets it back down without drinking. "Claire noticed before anyone else did."

"Did you see this yourself?"

"Claire told me what she was seeing. Once she pointed it out, I started watching too." Vivienne's mouth tightens. "She was right. The change was obvious once you knew where to look."

"Because Claire paid attention."

"Because Claire paid a specific kind of attention. She'd been in the lifestyle long enough to recognize what it looks like when a submissive goes from exploring to surviving."

Vivienne's voice drops. "Claire started asking Cécile questions. She said Cécile didn't give her direct answers, but she didn't shut Claire out. They were building something. Trust, I think. Slowly."

My hand is on the table. I keep it flat, keep the pen I want to reach for inside my bag. Pulling out a notebook right now would turn this into an interview. Vivienne needs it to be a confession.

"Then Prosper got involved," Vivienne says.

The name lands differently now. Weeks ago it was a thread in Claire's emails. A pattern in official reports. A name connected to the follow-up chain of every complaint I've tracked. Now it's Vivienne saying it out loud in a café with shaking hands and years of silence cracking open.

"He'd known Cécile since she joined," Vivienne continues. "He knew everyone. That was his role, or the role he'd given himself. The community's welcome committee. New submissive at Elysium? Prosper made sure she felt at home. He introduced her to the right people. He explained the protocols. He bought her a drink and made her laugh."

The description matches every encounter I've had with him. I've seen the warmth, the ease, his talent for navigating a room as if his only purpose is making sure everyone in it is comfortable.

"When Claire brought her concerns about Cécile to the community leadership, Prosper volunteered to mediate. He was the obvious choice. Everyone trusted him. He'd been at Elysium longer than most of the safety committee." Vivienne's mouth presses into a line before she continues. "The matter was handled quickly. Everyone seemed relieved to have a reasonable explanation."

"But Claire wasn't satisfied."

"Claire told me it was resolved too fast. That nobody wanted to sit with the question long enough to see what was underneath it." Vivienne meets my eyes. "That's not much to go on. I know that. It wasn't enough for me to act on, and it wasn't enough for Claire to take anywhere official."

"But she kept digging."

"She kept digging. She was talking to other women who'd left Elysium. She was comparing dates and timelines. She had a notebook." Vivienne pauses. "She had a whole system. Cross-references, color codes. A person doesn't build that unless they're trying to prove something they can feel but can't see."

I close my eyes for a second. I can see my sister at a kitchen table after midnight, transferring everything she'd observed at Elysium into a notebook of color-coded suspicions, chasing the same invisible shape I've been circling since she died.

"Vivienne. Did Claire have a standing arrangement at Elysium? A regular scene partner?"

"Étienne Comeaux." Vivienne says the name carefully, as if she's rehearsed it. "They had a booking most weeks. Claire trusted him. She'd been scening with him for months."