Chapter 3 - The Money That Wasn’t Missing by Accident
The next morning, I woke up on the sofa still wearing my lavender dress.
For several seconds, I didn’t remember why.
Then I saw Alexandre’s cake-covered jacket lying inside a trash bag near the entryway.
Everything came back.
Valérie.
The kiss.
The gym bag.
The house.
The envelope.
€186,000.
I sat up.
Hélène was already awake.
She was at the kitchen table with two coffees and the bank letter between them.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“Apparently.”
“About ninety minutes.”
“Luxury.”
She almost smiled.
I sat opposite her.
“Explain the letter.”
“It concerns a credit facility secured against shares in another family company.”
“Alexandre’s?”
“Partly.”
“And mine?”
“Potentially.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Why was it sent to you?”
“Because I remain a director.”
“Where did the money go?”
“I don’t know.”
That frightened me more than any answer could have.
Hélène pushed the letter toward me.
“There were withdrawals over eleven months.”
I scanned the dates.
Hotels.
Transfers.
Consulting charges.
One recurring payment to a company I didn’t recognize.
VLM Conseil.
My stomach tightened.
“VLM.”
Hélène nodded.
“Valérie’s full name?”
“Valérie Louise Mercier.”
I sat back.
“No.”
“We don’t know that the company belongs to her.”
I grabbed my phone.
A corporate registry search took less than three minutes.
VLM Conseil had been incorporated fourteen months earlier.
Managing director:
Valérie Louise Mercier.
My hands went cold.
The affair suddenly became something else.
“Alexandre transferred money to her company?”
“We need records before assuming that.”
I called our accountant.
Then the bank.
By noon, we had enough information to know the situation was serious.
Not all €186,000 had gone to Valérie.
But nearly €74,000 had.
The payments were labeled “strategic consulting.”
I stared at the statements.
“She works for him.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he privately pay her consulting company?”
Hélène didn’t answer.
Neither of us needed her to.
At 12:43, Alexandre called.
I let it ring.
At 12:45, he called again.
Then a message arrived.
We need to talk like adults.
I laughed.
Hélène raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
I showed her.
She sighed.
“Alexandre has always preferred adulthood when he wants forgiveness.”
Another message arrived.
Last night got out of control. I’m sorry about how you found out.
Not sorry for doing it.
Sorry for how I found out.
Then:
Valérie and I are staying at a hotel. I need clothes and my laptop.
I replied:
Your personal belongings can be collected by appointment.
His response arrived immediately.
Stop being ridiculous.
I put the phone down.
That afternoon, I changed the entry codes.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because for the first time, I didn’t know who my husband was.
At four, Alexandre arrived anyway.
He tried his code.
It failed.
Then he rang the bell for nearly a minute.
I opened the door but didn’t step aside.
His face looked exhausted.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You changed the code?”
“Yes.”
“This is childish.”
“What is VLM Conseil?”
Silence.
It lasted only two seconds.
But two seconds can answer a question.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Wrong response.”
“Marianne—”
“Did you transfer money to Valérie?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
I laughed.
He closed his eyes.
“The payments were legitimate.”
“For what?”
“Consulting.”
“She reports to you.”
“Outside work.”
“Doing what?”
He hesitated.
“Market research.”
“For seventy-four thousand euros?”
“You don’t understand executive-level consulting.”
I stared at him.
“Apparently I don’t understand my marriage either.”
He lowered his voice.
“Can I come inside?”
“No.”
“Marianne.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“Mom poisoned you against me.”
“Your mother didn’t bring Valérie into our bedroom.”
He flinched.
Good.
I hadn’t known that was true until I said it.
His face confirmed it.
My throat tightened.
“You brought her here before.”
“Don’t do this.”
“How many times?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“How many?”
He looked away.
I stepped backward.
Suddenly, the doorway between us felt like the only safe line in the world.
“Get your clothes another day.”
I started closing the door.
He caught it with his palm.
“Wait.”
I froze.
His hand remained against the door, but he didn’t push.
“I need my company laptop.”
“Where is it?”
“Study.”
“I’ll bring it.”
“You can’t touch it.”
“Then someone from your company can collect it.”
His face changed again.
Fear.
Small but unmistakable.
“Marianne, just give me the laptop.”
“What’s on it?”
“Confidential work.”
“Then why did you leave confidential work equipment at home?”
He stared at me.
Behind me, Hélène appeared.
“Remove your hand from the door, Alexandre.”
He looked past me.
“Of course you’re still here.”
“Yes.”
“You always wanted this.”
Hélène’s expression remained calm.
“Wanted what?”
“To prove Dad was right about me.”
Something shifted in her eyes.
“This has nothing to do with your father.”
“It has everything to do with him.”
“No. Your father didn’t force you to betray your wife.”
Alexandre removed his hand.
“Fine.”
He stepped back.
“But that laptop belongs to my employer.”
“Then your employer can request it,” I said.
He walked away.
Halfway to his car, he turned.
“Marianne.”
I waited.
“Do not open it.”
Then he left.
That was the moment I knew the laptop mattered.
I didn’t open it.
I called the company.
An hour later, their legal department called me back.
The woman introduced herself as Sophie Bernard, deputy general counsel.
When I explained that Alexandre had left a company laptop at the house, her tone became very careful.
“Please don’t access the device.”
“I haven’t.”
“Excellent. We’ll arrange collection.”
“Is something wrong?”
A pause.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because my husband seems terrified that I have it.”
Another pause.
Longer.
“Mrs. Delacroix, when did Mr. Delacroix leave the device?”
“Last night.”
“And he was accompanied by someone?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask who?”
“Valérie Mercier.”
Silence.
Then Sophie said something unexpected.
“I need to call you back.”
She did.
Twenty minutes later.
This time, another person was on the line.
The company’s head of compliance.
They asked me to repeat everything.
When I finished, he said, “We’re sending someone tonight.”
“Why?”
“We can’t discuss an internal matter.”
“Does this concern Alexandre’s promotion?”
Nobody answered.
My heart started pounding.
The compliance officer finally said, “Please preserve the laptop exactly as you found it.”
At seven that evening, two company representatives arrived.
I handed over the computer.
One of them placed it in a sealed evidence bag.
Evidence.
Not a computer bag.
An evidence bag.
Before leaving, Sophie looked at me.
“I’m sorry you’ve been pulled into this.”
“Pulled into what?”
She hesitated.
“I can’t tell you.”
Then she left.
At 8:16, Alexandre called.
I answered this time.
“What did you do?” he demanded.
“I returned your laptop.”
“To who?”
“Your company.”
He went silent.
Then I heard him breathe.
“Marianne.”
“Yes?”
“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
The call ended.
At 9:02, Valérie’s LinkedIn profile disappeared.
At 9:37, Alexandre’s company email stopped accepting messages.
At 10:11, Hélène’s phone rang.
She listened for less than a minute.
Then she slowly lowered it.
“What?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“The board has suspended Alexandre.”
I stared at her.
“Because of the affair?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
Hélène swallowed.
“They’re investigating whether he manipulated the promotion process.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
Marianne, you don’t know me. I work with Alexandre. Do not believe that Valérie was just his mistress. And whatever you do, check the date VLM Conseil was created.
I looked at the corporate record again.
Fourteen months earlier.
Then I looked at the date Alexandre first learned the Regional Director position would become available.
Fourteen months earlier.
Exactly the same week.
And suddenly his promotion no longer looked like the beginning of the story.
May you like
It looked like the reason for everything.
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