CHAPTER 3 — THE FAMILY LUNCH
At noon, Chantal's dining room buzzed with laughter.
Relatives filled every chair.
Everyone had arrived expecting entertainment.
They expected Elise to apologize.
To cry.
To submit.
Instead, she arrived carrying a leather briefcase.
The room fell silent.
Chantal smirked.
“Well? We're waiting.”
Elise placed the briefcase on the table.
Click.
The locks opened.
Documents spilled across the polished wood.
Property records.
Bank statements.
Transfer authorizations.
Signed receipts.
Every piece of evidence.
Confusion spread through the room.
Then Elise spoke.
Slowly.
Clearly.
“Since everyone is here, I thought the truth deserved witnesses.”
The smile disappeared from Chantal's face.
“What nonsense are you talking about?”
Elise ignored her.
She lifted a bank statement.
“For six years, money was transferred from my accounts into accounts controlled by Chantal Moreau.”
Murmurs erupted.
A cousin gasped.
An uncle leaned forward.
Julien looked as if he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
“You're lying!” Chantal shouted.
“Am I?”
Elise produced another document.
Then another.
Then another.
Each bearing signatures.
Dates.
Amounts.
Proof.
The room turned deadly quiet.
The confidence Chantal had worn for years began cracking apart.
Finally, Elise revealed the last page.
A forensic handwriting report.
Several authorization forms had been forged.
The signature belonged neither to Elise nor to Julien.
It belonged to Chantal.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Then Chantal's brother slowly stood up.
His expression was filled with disgust.
“You stole from her?”
The question hung in the air.
Heavy.
Humiliating.
Unavoidable.
May you like
For the first time in her life, Chantal had no audience left.
Only witnesses.
