A third looked directly at Camille.
Victoire saw it.
"What is the matter with you?"
The agent looked away.
Then the headlights appeared.
Very far away, at the bottom of the alley.
A black sedan passes through the iron gate.
Then a second.
Two SUVs.
Two more cars.
The line slowly went up to the villa.
The conversations died out.
The headlights glided over the stone walls, the olive trees, the bay windows and the surface of the pool.
Sophie placed her cup on a table.
"Victory...
"What?"
"Do you know those cars?"
Victoire had no time to answer.
A man had just left a group of guests near the bar.
Antoine Delacroix.
His father.
Sixty-two years old.
Gray hair.
Midnight blue suit.
Founder and president of the Delacroix Collection group, which operated luxury hotels in Paris, Courchevel, Saint-Tropez, Geneva and Monaco.
He had spent the whole evening smiling.
To shake hands.
To talk about growth.
Discreetly evoking a "historic agreement" that was to be finalized before midnight.
When he saw the convoy, his smile disappeared.
Then he saw Camille.
Soaked.
And his face changed completely.
— Victory.
She turned around.
"Dad?"
He looked at the pieces of glass.
The swimming pool.
Then his daughter.
"What happened?"
Victoire shrugged her shoulders.
"Nothing.
Antoine stared at Camille's soaked blouse.
"Nothing?"
"She spilled some wine."
Camille looked down at the stone.
A single red drop was still drying near where Victoire was standing.
Antoine followed her gaze.
Then looked at her daughter.
"And?"
Victoire began to lose patience.
"And she me off.
Antoine closed his eyes for a second.
Then turned to Camille.
"Madame Laurent...
The silence around them became almost total.
Victoire frowned.
"Madame?"
Camille looked at Antoine.
— Monsieur Delacroix.
Sophie slowly turned her head towards her friend.
Victoire turned slightly pale.
The name.
Laurent.
She knew him.
Not Camille.
Not really.
But the name, yes.
Laurent Patrimoine.
A discreet family holding company controlling several historic hotels, wine estates, two prestigious residences on the French Riviera and real estate assets estimated at several hundred million euros.
For almost a year, Delacroix Collection had been negotiating to operate three future establishments belonging to Laurent Patrimoine.
The most important agreement in the recent history of the Delacroix group.
Victoire looked at Camille.
Then his badge.
CAMILLE.
She had already seen this name in a file left open in her father's office.
Camille Laurent.
Executive Chair.
Heiress, said the press.
But the word was misleading.
Camille had indeed inherited shares.
No competence.
This one, she must have acquired.
Victoire murmured:
"I don't—"
Camille did not answer.
At the foot of the villa, the vehicles stopped.
Doors opened out of sight.
The security guards repositioned themselves.
Antoine looked at the convoy.
Then Camille.
"They were already on their way?"
"Yes."
"For the signature?"
"Yes."
He breathed in.
— Camille…
She raised a hand.
"Not here.
He nodded immediately.
Victoire stared at her father.
"Do you know her?"
Antoine turned to her.
"Of course I know her."
The tone is enough.
Victoire stepped back slightly.