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“Dis-moi.”
I turned my phone towards him.
Yves’s eyebrows hiked up once he registered the photo and the text message. “Someone is messing with you.”
“Yes, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Do you remember how Donovan found out that Moretti was responsible for calling the MPD with the anonymous tip? He died before I could interrogate him, but I found this in his pocket.”
I pushed the joker card towards my father, who evaluated it like a Monet.
In our world, messages came in all forms. The De la Croixes themselves were particularly fond of carving a cross into their traitors’ chests.
Therefore, a playing card stuffed in the pocket of a dead man could be interpreted in many ways. It was the first of its kind, and I doubted it would be the last.
“Did you know Violette’s favourite card was the joker?”
“Why are you bringing Violette into this? What does she have to do with Miles Moretti?” Yves frowned.
“Nothing, except they both had one thing in common: they died hating me.”
Yves froze. “Why did Violette die…hating you?”
I took a deep puff and tilted my head back, letting the smoke curl out into the air. The ceiling above was a renaissance-inspired painting with angels and clouds, dancing in a pale blue heaven. It was Céline’s touch, who insisted it brightened the office. Now as I stared at it, I wondered if Heaven existed and if Violette was currently residing there.
“I was in a four-month long arrangement with Violette right until the night before she died.”
The silence in the room was deafening.
“You never told me this,” Yves said with a hint of umbrage. The black blazer strained around his shoulders as he leaned forward. “Elaborate, Zeno.”
I stared at the empty bookshelf, unable to meet his blue gaze. “I never told anyone. We were seeing each other for a bit. Nothing serious on my part—”
“You were fucking her,” Yves deadpanned. “Let me guess, a casual relationship to scratch a mutual itch?”
“Exactly,” I drawled. “I cared for Violette, given our families’ history, but I never had a romantic interest in her. We both agreed to a simple friends-with-benefits situation for an indefinite amount of time, after seeing each other at one of Céline’s fundraisers a year and a half year ago.”
“Go on,” he urged.
Despite his alarmed tone, I felt an underlying relief finally speaking to Yves about my best-kept secret.
“Work has always been a priority of mine. I never had the time to date and made it clear to Violette that things between us would remain…casual and purely physical. She agreed to my terms eagerly. Over the course of those four months, Violette became clingy and jealous whenever we went out. One day I found her at my penthouse, going through my stuff. She said my suits smelled like other women and asked to go through my text messages.” I took another drag of my cigar. “Her possessiveness unsettled me and I’d had enough of her antics. Violette nearly cost me a deal with Daniel Ivanov when she spilled her champagne all over his date’s dress just because Ismiledat her.” I ran my tongue over my teeth and glanced away from Yves. “The night before she died, I went to the Toussaints’ house and broke up with her. Violette turned hysteric and demanded I marry her. Claimed she was in love with me and wouldn’t let me go. I gave her a piece of my mind and was overly cruel to someone I’d known for years. The next night, she partied too hard and fell from a rooftop.”
Yves reeled from my revelation. Hurt and disappointment concocted over his features in a way that made me feel more shame. I already harboured so much guilt over Violette’s death.
“Please don’t give me a lecture. I know how much Violette meant to our family. I cared for her, but I didn’t love her. That’s why I ended things when she made me feel like I owed her something beyond our agreement.”
I was always clear with my intentions, but I should have known that Violette wasn’t cut for this kind of arrangement.
“I cannot say I’m happy to hear this. We loved Violette very much,” Yves said grimly. “But judging from your words, I can hear your regret.”
“I’m sorry.” I really was.
“I know you very well, Zeno. You never would have hurt her intentionally. Her not respecting the boundaries of your relationship isn’t your fault.” He pawed his silvering hair. “Although we would have been delighted with Violette as a daughter-in-law, you cannot help how you feel. Regardless, it is really sad how her short life came to an end.”
When I heard of her passing, I sat alone in my room for hours with self-loathing thoughts, thinking somehow our breakup spiraled her actions. Violette wasn’t the kind of girl to party excessively or do drugs. Her autopsy showing a high dose of opioids was a surprise to everyone.
“You believe this text message is somehow linked to Violette?”
“No one else wanted to be my wife besides her.”
