Chapter 108.1

Chapter 108.1

Monday morning.

André went into the office early. He had already missed three days during one of the busiest times of the year, with preparations underway for the shareholders’ meeting scheduled for September 6, and he was going to have to make up for it.

Right after clearing his most urgent work, he glanced at his watch, picked up the phone, and made a call.

[The wedding’s off.]

That was the first thing out of his mouth when Lorraine answered. She snapped out of her daze and shouted sharply.

― André de Lafayette, have you lost your mind?

[A little. But I’m fine now.]

― Is this supposed to be a joke? Because it’s not funny.

Her tone was icy. André sighed and repeated himself, this time with force.

[Lorraine, I mean it. The wedding’s canceled.]

― …You really have gone insane, haven’t you?

[Contracts get canceled before they’re signed all the time. Either way, I’m withdrawing mine. I’ll still move forward with the sponsorship proposal as planned. You can do whatever you want with the ring. The rest, we’ll finalize through the lawyers.]

Lorraine’s voice sharpened with disbelief.

― What about the shareholders’ meeting? You don’t care if you lose the company?

[That’s none of your concern.]

Lorraine let out a bitter, cutting laugh.

― Unbelievable. This is because of that woman, isn’t it?

Instead of answering, André asked her a question.

[Lorraine. Did you ever tell him that you planned to marry another man just to protect your lover?]

― Stay out of my business!

Lorraine’s voice rose in anger. André didn’t need her to answer. He already knew.

[…Don’t do something you’ll regret. That’s all I have to say.]

—

September 2, 1996.

It was Monday, four days before the shareholders’ meeting. By now, André should have been at city hall registering his marriage with Lorraine, but instead he’d been shut in his office all morning with an outside contact.

Inside the yellow manila envelope was the information he’d been waiting for, along with several photos that were difficult to look at.

To verify the leads Lorraine had leaked, André had hired a private investigator to gather evidence of Gordon Lowell’s embezzlement and breach of trust. The department store subsidiary’s board was already under Lowell family control, so an internal audit would have been nothing more than a formality.

The report confirmed that company funds had been siphoned off through Gordon’s second son, Joseph Lowell, the head of financial management, to purchase a Picasso painting.

That wasn’t all. The report also showed that Gordon had used the company’s private jet for personal trips and even expensed escort services. The audacity of it suggested this wasn’t the first time.

As a “bonus,” the investigator had included several vile, obscene photographs provided by one of the call girls who had joined Gordon on a golf trip to the Bahamas.

As soon as the investigator left, André flipped through his cardholder until he found James Lowell’s business card. Without hesitation, he dialed the number. The moment James answered, André got straight to the point.

[It’s me, Lafayette. Meet me tonight at seven, in the lounge at the Lafayette Hotel.]

After a brief pause, James spoke carefully.

― …André. It’s been a long time. What’s this about?

If anyone in the Lowell family had ever been close to André, it was James. A year older, sharp-minded, and even-tempered, James had often spent time with him as a child. He was almost like a cousin.

[It’s about your family.]

James’s voice came back, tinged with curiosity.

― Hmm. I’m curious. What’s so important that you had to call me yourself? Fine. I’ll see you at the lounge at seven.

At exactly seven o’clock, André arrived at the Lafayette Hotel lounge, the manila envelope in hand. As soon as he stepped through the automatic doors, the general manager greeted him politely and escorted him to a private room.

[Mr. Lowell is waiting inside.]

He answered before André could even ask.

The private room was decorated like a modern French-style sitting room. James, holding a glass of whiskey on the rocks, was leaning against the window frame, gazing outside. When the door opened, he turned his head.

André strode across the room and took the seat at the head of the table. Then he motioned to James.

[Sit.]

[Would it kill you to say hello, André? When was the last time we met…]

[The funeral.]

[…Ah. Right.]

James let out an awkward laugh and sat across from him. He was tall and handsome, very much his father’s son.