“She was told the commercial department expected the agreements to convert.”
Antoine's expression hardened.
“Did they?”
“Not all of them.”
Antoine leaned back.
For a moment, he felt physically ill.
Then he asked another question.
“Did the external reviewers receive the earlier schedule?”
Luc shook his head.
“They had access to selected supporting documents.”
Antoine stared.
“Selected by whom?”
The financial director didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Antoine reached for his phone.
“I want the general counsel.”
Luc stepped forward.
“Antoine, we can resolve this internally.”
The chairman looked up.
For several seconds, his expression remained unreadable.
Then he answered.
“That's what you've been telling me for six months.”
Luc stopped.
Antoine continued.
“An external financing consortium is asking whether our investor presentation accurately describes contractual commitments. An independent research team has raised similar concerns. And your answer is that we should handle everything quietly?”
Luc swallowed.
“I'm saying we should avoid damaging the project before we understand the full situation.”
Antoine nodded slowly.
“On that point, we agree.”
The financial director appeared relieved.
Then Antoine added, “Which is why you will stop making changes to the model, stop communicating with the investors about the disputed figures, and preserve every relevant version of the records.”
Luc's face went pale.
“Antoine—”
“Until independent counsel has reviewed them.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Antoine looked toward the door.
“You may go.”
Luc remained motionless.
Finally, he gathered his laptop.
Then left.
When the door closed, Antoine stared at the city.
Paris looked magnificent from his office.
The river.
The bridges.
The pale stone buildings.
He had spent decades believing wealth allowed him to see the world from above.
Now he was beginning to wonder whether it had simply allowed him to stop looking carefully at the people who kept everything working beneath him.
His secretary entered a few minutes later.
“Mr. Delcourt?”
He turned.
“Yes?”
“The legal department wants to confirm whether you authorized a notice to the restaurant employee.”
Antoine frowned.
“What notice?”
She hesitated.
“A demand that Miss Marković refrain from disclosing confidential information.”
His expression changed.
“Who sent it?”
“The legal team says it was requested urgently last night.”
Antoine stared toward the door.
“By Luc?”
The secretary hesitated.
“Yes.”
Antoine closed his eyes.
For a moment, he remembered Elena's expression when he asked who'd authorized her to listen to the dinner conversation.
She hadn't looked frightened at first.