Chapter Text
Nathalie Confronts Gabriel-
Those thoughts torment her, circling her mind day and night, cruelly stealing the air from her lungs until she feels she can barely breathe. She can't accept that the man she is starting to love so deeply yet so quietly could have murdered his pregnant wife.
Yet, the possibility exists. One haunting and tormenting possibility she can't ignore nor escape.
And despite all of it... Nathalie wants to believe him. She needs to believe him because if she doesn't, she's sure she'll die of pain and disillusionment.
As he comes closer, and as his hands move towards her, Nathalie stiffens. She's caught between the silent love sitting in her heart, and the oath she swore as a detective to follow the truth, no matter where it leads, no matter who is guilty.
"Is it really so hard for you to believe me?"
His question is like a knife. Her throat is tight with everything she can't say.
"Nathalie?"
"You've never said you didn't do it," she lets out for the very first time, and her words are a wave of truth slapping him across the face. She's right, he's never actually denied involvement. But why would he...
"You're the detective here, you figure it out." And he releases her hands.
Eyes dark, a stare that frightens her. Thoughts collide in her mind, and then she feels as if she can't breathe again.
"Why can't you just say it?" She asks desperately. "Why?" She exclaims this time, "I feel like I'm dying. This is killing me, Gabriel."
With his still dark and dull stare, he utters, "you wouldn't believe me anyway."
Nathalie remains silent. Perhaps he's right, perhaps she won't believe him, no matter what he says.
"You see?" He gets close to her again, "I'm just one more suspect in your list of possible murderers."
"You are," she lets out bluntly.
He smiles a dull smile at her. "Now I know you'll always be afraid of me."
A harsh shudder runs down her spine. Because just as she's afraid, she's in love. Stupidly in love with a man she doesn't even know. With a man she can't even trust.
"I see it in your eyes," he whispers. "You're afraid of me, Nathalie."
She swallows hard. Her hands tremble and before she can try to hide it, Gabriel takes one of her hands into his own again. He feels how she trembles in fear... Fear of what she thinks he is. And it burns, burns like fire.
"Gabriel..." she utters brokenly.
Their gazes connect, more intense than ever before.
"Nathalie... If only you knew what I feel every time you're close. Yet, I don't think that's enough."
Suddenly, this all becomes unbearable. This love she feels for him along with this fear that feels like it's slowly killing her. Tears sting her eyes, and she wishes she could tell him what she feels just as she wishes she could fully believe he had nothing to do with Emilie's death. Their faces are only inches apart, their breathing uneven, eyes locked with unspoken feelings on both sides. Feelings that go beyond mere love and deep fear.
As he tries to come closer, as it seems he wants to kiss her and touch her, Nathalie pulls away. "We can't," she whispers. "Not again, not when my suspicions have grown."
"Towards me?" He asks in a slightly darkened tone, something she can't understand. Something she won't ever understand.
Nathalie nods. "You've given me reasons, Gabriel."
"Leave," he suddenly says. His tone is harsh, "And don't come back."
Nathalie is left stunned by his sudden coldness, by his sudden aggressiveness.
That arrogance and haughtiness that dominates him since the moment she met him. That kind of attitude that exists is his world of wealth and power.
"Anything you wish to say to me must go through my attorney and assistant first. I don't want you in my private space again."
Nathalie turns away from him before he can say anything else. Before he can even see the dash of tears in her glistening blue eyes. And now she feels as if she's just lost him forever.
Lost something that was never truly hers, and it hurts.
Hurts more than what she could have imagined, more than it should. Still, beneath all her pain, Nathalie knows that leaving him is the only way she'll find her way to Emilie's true murderer.
Ten Months Earlier: Gabriel Agreste's First Interview-
"There's two detectives at the front door," Simon says as he enters the atelier.
Gabriel barely glances up, evidently unfazed.
The glow of the computer screen illuminates his stern, composed features, and even though he has heard his assistant's words, there's no real reaction from his part.
All Gabriel cares about now is designing.
Still, he mumbles, "what do they want?"
"They're here to interview you."
"Why?"
"You know why."
Gabriel exhales sharply, irritation evident in his voice. "Take them to the nearest living room. I'll be there shortly."
The assistant nods, ready to do as Gabriel has asked him to.
When the door clicks shut again, Gabriel steps away from his computer screen. The handbag on the design software is left unfinished as he walks towards the long mirror that hangs on one of the atelier walls. He gazes at his reflection, pleased by the image staring back at him. An expression that never shifts. He studies his reflection in silence, taking in every familiar detail.
Needing to look impeccable before meeting with those who threaten his security. Everything he knows he’s built.
He stares at the tailored suit, his straight posture, his calm, controlled look that has always unsettled people.
People rarely meet his gaze for long, he has noticed that.
Some find him intimidating, others find him arrogant.
Gabriel supposes both are true, but he doesn't mind.
In fact, he prefers it that way.
People... They are remarkably easy to read once he pays attention. Like he'd done with Emilie all those weeks ago.
Because she'd gotten away with a lot of things simply because he wasn't paying attention. But once he did, that's when it all came crashing down for her... And for him.
Emotions, fears, insecurities, desires. His gaze lingers on his reflection. The man staring back appears composed, confident, entirely in control.
Good, because control is very important.
Without it, people make mistakes. Without it, secrets slip out. And Gabriel has too many secrets for that… The kind that linger in the back of his mind no matter how hard he tries to ignore them.
None of it shows on his face.
That is the point. The world doesn't need to know what exists beneath the surface. It only needs to see what Gabriel allows it to see, and Gabriel has always been very good at doing that.
So with a calm and steady mind, he exits the atelier. Face stern, nearly emotionless. He hears the voice of his assistant as he offers the detectives something to drink.
"No thank you," a voice echoes.
When Gabriel steps into the living room, he finds them.
Immediately, one of them catches his eye.
The woman with pale skin and raven black hair.
His gaze briefly moves over to her partner before returning to her. One leg crossed over the other, a posture relaxed in a way that reads control and intelligence.
It doesn't fit what he expects.
Detectives, in his mind, tend to carry themselves a certain way. Perhaps weariness etched into them. A type of thing that comes from too many cases, too many people who lie without even trying to make it convincing.
This woman doesn't show any of that at first glance. If anything, she looks... Out of place in the job. Not in an incompetent way. Just in a way that doesn't match the stereotype his mind automatically assigns to her job.
Her face is calm, features soft, skin pale, eyes blue so so blue. Eyes that scan him as he enters, steady and focused, like she's already decided she's not going to miss anything he does or says.
Simply watches, unbothered, very patient.
Then he begins to wonder what she already knows. She meets his gaze again when he comes closer, holding it just long enough to make it clear she's here for the truth.
Gabriel swallows roughly. For the first time, he feels intimidated though he makes sure not to show it.
"Good evening, detectives."
The women stand up immediately, "good evening Mr. Agreste. I'm detective Nathalie Sancoeur and this is my partner, detective Penny Rolling."
They shake hands.
"Please," he says politely yet firmly, "have a seat."
As they sit down, detective Sancoeur opens up her notebook, a pen in between her fingers.
"I suppose you know why we're here?" She begins.
"I can imagine," he answers "though I assume you'll clarify regardless." They weren't the first detectives Gabriel was talking to.
The night of the incident, he had talked to others who were on scene. But he had been avoiding them for the most part... All has been discussed, at least in his mind.
"We're investigating the death of your wife, Emilie Agreste." Penny says, "Two months ago at the diamond's dance."
"The investigation was handled rather poorly, from the very beginning." Nathalie continues, "but after detective Rolling and I were assigned this case three weeks ago, we realized this wasn't a robbery attempt."
"Then what is it?" He asks plainly, almost coldly.
Nathalie stares at him, noticing his disinterest. His wife was murdered and it seems as though nothing has happened.
Arrogant, firm, intimidating.
Old money writhing all around him.
"We have reason to believe your wife's death was not the result of a random act. Evidence indicates she may have been murdered by someone familiar to her after a conversation escalated into a violent confrontation."
They know too much, Gabriel thinks. These two detectives aren't like the ones on scene all those weeks ago.
They are professional, and very much capable. They aren't the type to cover it up. No, they are the type to get to the bottom of it, no matter what secrets are revealed.
"My question is," Nathalie says, "what happened between you and your wife the night of the diamond's dance."
"I gave my statement, detective."
"And I'm asking you again." She says in a brisk manner.
Her tone irritates him, makes him feel exposed.
Him... Gabriel Agreste. With no other choice than to answer, Gabriel begins to deliver his side of the story all over again.
Making sure to leave out a major part of it. That being his feelings, the details of their crumbling marriage. After all, that isn't for them to know.
Night Of The Murder-
Emilie wore a dress made by him.
Every stitch, every embroidery. She looked stunning, absolutely beautiful. But the image of her didn't provoke in him what it used to all those years ago.
Gabriel Agreste had stopped loving his wife years ago.
Emilie had also fallen out of love. They hadn't shared a bedroom in a very long time even if every once in a while Emilie would slip into his bed uninvited.
Sometimes he'd send her away.
Other times he'd let her stay. He would kiss her, touch her. Not with the tenderness that had once come so effortlessly when they were young and hopelessly in love, but out of mere habit. Out of something neither of them seemed capable of burying, even after everything else between them had long since died.
Gabriel never understood why that part of their relationship refused to fully disappear.
Still, months could go by, and Emilie wouldn't even look at him. She would move through the house like a ghost, speaking to him only when necessary, keeping herself fully out of his reach.
Then, without any warning, she'd find herself back to him again. Seeking his warmth, nothing more. No words, no promises, no love. By morning, the distance would be there again, as though the night had never happened.
The diamond's dance came around every other year. And by then, the marriage that had been crumbling for years, had truly hollowed out in the last months.
They'd become unbearable. It had been months since Emilie and Gabriel had resembled anything close to husband and wife.
At some point, he'd simply stopped trying. He stopped asking where she was going, and that's exactly how she'd gotten away with so much.
Emilie noticed, of course she did. She ignored him for years whenever it suited her. Entire evenings could pass without so much as a glance in his direction, but she hated when the roles were reversed.
At first she'd mess with him, try to get his attention one way or another. Sometimes she'd deliberately linger beside him, waiting for him to acknowledge her… He never did, and it was almost insulting. Not because he yelled at her, not because he insulted her. Because he acted as though she simply wasn't there.
Eventually, she stopped trying too.
Or at least... That's what Gabriel believed.
Gabriel Agreste was an observant man, very little escaped him. But one had to be looking to notice.
And for months... He simply hadn't been.
Had he been paying attention, he would've realized Emilie had stopped slipping into his bedroom late at night. Those silent visits they'd shared without affection, without conversation, without pretending they were still in love, the ones where neither of them acknowledged the next morning had vanished entirely. She no longer sought his company, and that was because she'd found someone else's. The thought had never crossed Gabriel's mind. He assumed she had finally grown tired of him.
If it had... He wasn't completely certain which would come first. Killing the man... Or killing her...
Gabriel Agreste wasn't one to be humiliated in such a way.
"The car is waiting," he said as he stepped into her bedroom without knocking.
Emilie stood before the mirror wearing the gown he'd designed specifically for tonight's event. And she looked exactly as he'd imagined when he first sketched it.
Beautiful, elegant, untouchable.
Still, no compliment left his mouth.
"You're ready?" She asked.
He ignored her question, instead asking, "where's your ring?" He noticed that her wedding band wasn't on her finger like it normally would be.
"I took it off."
"I can see that," he said, evidently annoyed, "put it back on."
"Why?"
"I don't want people speculating about my marriage. Put it on right now."
She turned around slowly, "I don't understand your insistence, Gabriel. You don't have much of a marriage to speculate about anyway. Funny..." she giggled softly, "someone actually sees me now, and he couldn't care less whether I'm wearing a ring."
The words were calm, too calm. Something about the way she said them made him look at her. Really, really look at her.
She seemed lighter.
Almost... Happy. A feeling twisted unpleasantly in his chest. And she was partially lying then, because whoever this person was... Well, they were growing tired of her too.
Again, Gabriel Agreste was a very observant man.
It was as if he could see right through people's eyes, their emotions, their vulnerability. The way Emilie glowed in that moment struck him deeply. And in that moment, the realization hit him. Because she'd gotten away with this simply because he'd stopped looking at her.
"There's someone else." He let out, and it wasn't a question. Nor was he jealous.
Green eyes lingered on him for a moment, she didn't deny it and that's when he knew. His laugh almost sounded disbelieving. "So you've been cheating?"
"I-"
"Don't say anything."
Emilie fell silent for a second.
Gabriel wasn't sure how to feel at that moment. It struck him harder than expected. Because yes, they had stopped fully acknowledging each other, and yes, it had been he who started it, but he hadn't ever thought she'd do this.
He looked at her again, really looked at her.
For the first time in months. And suddenly, he noticed something else. The gown, elegant as it was, no longer fell straight. There was a gentle curve beneath the silk. Small, full, round, and unmistakable once seen.
His eyes remained fixed on it. "You've gained weight."
Emilie blinked, walking towards him as those words slipped out his lips. She closed the distance between them, took both of his hands before he could pull away, and rested them against the slight swell of her abdomen.
"I'm pregnant." She revealed in a whisper.
Gabriel swiftly pulled his hands out of her grasp, as though she had burned him.
His face went blank, "no."
Emilie giggled. "I am."
"It's not mine." He bluntly said. "We haven't... I haven't touched you in months."
She turned on her heels, "don't be too sure. I'm twenty-three weeks pregnant. You can be the father, Gabriel."
Oh, she was messing with him. Making him pay for what he's done to her. Her words were enough to create even the slightest doubt.
Gabriel looked at her as though he was seeing a stranger.
"I was right. You have been sleeping with another man."
She didn't answer.
"You disgust me." He uttered.
"Don't act offended-"
"You expect me to let you live here after this?"
"I expect nothing from you!" She lied, because Emilie expected a lot from him. Far more than he was willing to give.
Something inside him snapped.
Emilie was a manipulative woman. That he knew when he'd purposely drift away from her. She always found ways to make him want her again, and that's when he understood that she had done this on purpose. She couldn't let him escape from her grasp, and what better way than to get pregnant.
Regardless if he were the father or not, Emilie knew she could keep Gabriel for as long as she wanted and needed with this. After all, Gabriel hated gossip, and anything that came with it.
"You did this on purpose!" He snapped.
"Think what you want, I really don't care."
"You've made a fool of me!"
"You did that yourself."
He took a step toward her.
Too fast, too angry. She instinctively stepped back, seeing the hatred in his dull gray eyes. "Gabriel..."
He didn't stop, his hands reached out for her, grabbing her and pushing her into the nearest wall. His hand pressed against her face. "You won't get away with this."
"Stop." She begged in a tremble, "let go of me. You're scaring me."
Before either of them could move, a sharp knock sounded at the bedroom door. Gabriel stepped away from her immediately.
"Mom?" A voice called out.
It was Adrien.
"Dad?" He called again. "The car is waiting."
"We're coming," Emilie answered in her best tone.
She walked out of there as fast as she could.
Gabriel glanced back at his reflection, "you won't get away with this, Emilie..."
Back to Gabriel Agreste's Interview-
Of course, Gabriel had made sure to keep out of those harming details. He simply lets the detectives know that on that specific night, he and his wife got ready for the diamond's dance. Drove there accompanied by security, and at some point, Emilie had stepped away from the reception. It wasn't until many, many minutes later, that an employee found her in the garden, sprawled on the ground, a gunshot wound to her chest.
"She was pregnant," Nathalie says.
He nods.
"And you knew?"
"Yes of course," he answers.
"Were you two planning on having another child?"
"Yes," he lies. "We'd talked about it for quite some time. Even at forty-two, and our eldest already grown, Emilie wanted another child, and so did I."
"It was a boy." Penny lets out.
"I'm sorry?" Gabriel sounds confused.
Nathalie notices his confusion immediately, taking a mental note of it.
"The baby your wife was carrying was a boy." Penny clarifies.
"Oh," For the first time since the interview began, Gabriel is genuinely caught off guard. He never knew that. He'd deliberately refused to read the autopsy report when it landed in his inbox, seeing no reason to relive Emilie's death, let alone through clinical examination.
For a few weeks, he played the part everyone expected of him, the one of the grieving widower. Then, when it seemed appropriate, he let the act fade away and returned to being himself.
"We're so sorry for your loss," Nathalie says as she stands up. "And I can assure you that detective Rolling and I will get to the bottom of this."
He nods. "Thank you, detectives."
"There's something I want to show you before we leave."
Nathalie pulls out a clear plastic bag. Inside is a brooch, shaped like a butterfly. A purple gem in the center of it.
"Have you ever seen this before?"
His stomach drops, yet he lies without hesitation.
"Never."
Nathalie nods, "thank you for your time, Mr. Agreste."
Simon walks the detectives to the door.
Gabriel is left behind.
Worried, afraid. Secrets are at stake... That he knows.
Detective Sancoeur's Apartment-
Nathalie sits on the couch in her living room, her thoughts circling endlessly around Gabriel Agreste.
His behavior had been calm, too calm. She had already heard it from the other detectives. The shock he was supposed to have felt that night. She had reviewed the surveillance footage herself. Him inside the dining hall during the diamond's dance, very much composed. She had also read his statement from the night his wife was murdered. Nothing in it had changed. Nothing had shifted. And yet something about him refuses to settle in her mind.
What is it that leaves her with this persistent, uneasy feeling? Gabriel Agreste is not like most people. She understood that today.
Cold, controlled, precise. Reserved in a way that doesn't seem natural at all. Still, he seemed genuinely surprised to find out his wife was carrying a boy. Hadn't he already known?
"Something's missing," she whispers to herself. Glancing down to the coffee table in the middle of her small living room.
Files scattered across that wooden table, statements of the guests who had been there that night.
Evidence was simple and vague.
The weapon hadn't been found, neither was the shell casing of the bullet. The only thing found a few feet away from Emilie's body was the brooch in the form of a butterfly. The one Gabriel Agreste denied ever seeing before.
She reaches for a specific file.
Finding a name that catches her attention: Colt Fathom. "I'll interview you tomorrow." Nathalie lets out into the quietness of her empty apartment.
Colt Fathom's First Interview-
Nathalie and Penny arrive at Colt Fathom's office building located in the outskirts of Paris.
"Two detectives are here to talk to you," Colt's assistant says.
Colt stares at the woman in confusion. "Detectives?"
"It's about the murder of your sister-in-law, Emilie Agreste."
"Let them in." The assistant nods, ready to do as she's been instructed.
Colt swallows roughly, needing to compose himself before the detectives enter. Needing to make sure no secrets are revealed.
The two detectives enter. "Mr. Fathom," Nathalie extends her hand out to him. "I'm detective Nathalie Sancoeur, and this is my partner, detective Penny Rolling."
"It's nice to meet you," he says, directing them to have a seat.
"I suppose your assistant let you know the reason for our visit."
"It's about my sister-in-law Emilie, right?"
Nathalie nods. "We have your statement, Mr. Fathom."
Colt had been at the diamond's dance too.
And that night, he was on the verge of breaking.
Emilie had him in his grasp, and there was nothing he could do. Because even as he begins to recount what happened that night, his mind drifts someplace else.
Many weeks before Emilie's death...
Emilie Agreste's Pregnancy-
Emilie stood up from the toilet seat, pulling the robe tighter around her waist. She set the test carefully on the edge in the sink, and lifted her gaze to the mirror above, finding her own reflection staring back at her. She smiled with satisfaction, knowing that if the test was as expected, then everything would work in her favor. That she would have both men at her feet. That they would do as she wished, and that alone was her greatest indulgence. The knowledge that they were hers because she allowed it.
She chuckled as the digital test finally showed the result. Her feet turned, exiting the bathroom and walking in direction to the long mirror inside her bedroom.
Green eyes glowed, the world was hers.
Or so she thought... Her hands went to undo the silky robe, letting it slip off her shoulders and onto the floor beneath her.
Emilie stared at her nude body, her eyes focused on her abdomen. Flat, pale, yet it wasn't empty.
"Gabriel," she murmured her husband's name, "you thought you could escape?" She leaned towards the mirror as her fingers traced the outlines of her still flat abdomen. "You won't leave now. This baby will keep you tied to me for as long as I want and need."
That she knew... After all, Gabriel had always feared becoming the talk of the town. He hated gossip, loathed the idea of being people's entertainment. The thought of people whispering that he had abandoned his pregnant wife was unthinkable. Or worse, that they could find out she was having an affair.
"He'll stay now," she thought, "he has to. This baby will bind him even more."
Gabriel Agreste would be eating out of the palm of her hand. She bent down to retrieve the robe from the floor, slipping it back on. She could already imagine Gabriel's face when she told him.
As her body fell onto the large mattress, and her green gaze stared at the ceiling above her, Emilie understood that even if she could and would bind Gabriel with the baby growing inside her womb, he wouldn't be the only one to be under her command.
So that's why she found herself within Colt's offices so soon after the pregnancy test gave her the results she had wanted and needed. There was no need for announcements or anything, the secretary let her in without thought.
"What are you doing here?" Colt immediately asked the moment Emilie slipped into his private office.
"I see you aren't too happy to see me," she said with a grin. "Hopefully the news I'm about to tell you lightens up your mood." She set her lavish handbag down to then take a seat on one of the nearby chairs.
"News?" He uttered in confusion.
Emilie nodded, she could see the annoyance in his eyes. She could hear it in his voice.
Recently, Emilie had begun to notice that Colt was growing tired of her just as Gabriel had. Months earlier, Colt would have greeted her differently. He would have rushed to her side, pulling her in for a passionate and hungry kiss. Back then, he would have totally suggested they slip away together. That they'd meet up at a hotel or perhaps at his spare apartment.
Now, all of that has disappeared. That's why she had done what she had. The baby inside of her had been all part of her plan to not let either one of them slip away from her grasp. After all, it was her game... Her rules...
"I'm pregnant," she let out like nothing. Yet it was everything. Everything she had planned, and everything that could ruin him.
Colt stared at her as if he had gone mute. Or maybe he misheard. "What?" He finally spoke.
Emilie could see the shock in his face. "You didn't hear me?" She asked mockingly.
He took a deep breath, he wasn't going to play her game. "Really?" He pretended to not care.
"Yes," she confirmed.
"Okay. Do you want me to congratulate you?"
She giggled, "if you'd like."
His heart pounded, but he played it down too well.
Except, Emilie could tell he was nervous.
"Then, congratulations."
"Thank you."
"Though, I don't understand why you're telling me and not your husband."
"Oh, don't you worry," Emilie uttered, "Gabriel will soon know about this baby." Her hands hovered over her still flat stomach. "What he won't know is that he isn't the father."
Colt's eyes went wide. It was everything he feared.
"You-"
She interrupted him, "it's yours, Colt. You're the father of this baby."
Their eyes connected. His from fear. Hers from satisfaction.
"You're playing with me, Emilie." He stood up angrily, "but I won't let you."
"I'm not playing." She stood up too. "This baby is yours and not Gabriel's."
"I don't believe you," Colt let out plainly. His fingers reached into the pocket of his blazer, quickly finding a cigarette and a lighter. He needed a smoke. He needed it now. "How can you be so sure that it's mine and not Gabriel's?"
"Fine," she walked towards him.
His eyes stared out the window that overlooked the city. Smoke soon spread across the office, and as he heard her come closer, Colt tried to move. Tried to escape her words, yet nothing could stop her. Emilie had proven to be dangerous in the quietest way. Seductive, manipulative, cruel, and above all, intelligent. He discovered that years ago when he met her, and confirmed it when he let her fall into his bed all those months ago.
"You don't have to believe me right now." She was next to him now. "But I know how to put your doubts to rest." He didn't respond, but Emilie continued. "If you want proof, come with me to a paternity testing center. Pick the location, I have nothing to hide."
The way she said it. It was her confidence, it was her certainty. Colt believed her instantly. With or without a paternity test, he knew that the baby inside of her was his.
Green eyes couldn't lie in that moment. Still, he said, "you're out of your mind, Emilie." He crashed his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. "What are your intentions with all of this?"
Those were the exact words she yearned to hear from his mouth.
"I'm going to be clear and precise." She let her body fall into a nearby leather couch, and Colt stared at her with hatred. "I want a house." Emilie said casually. "A lot of money, and properties under my name," her hand slid back to her stomach. "I need to secure my future. I need to secure our child's future."
In that single moment, Colt Fathom understood he was under Emilie's control. She could do whatever she wanted, and there was nothing he could do to stop her... Or maybe there was...
Back to Colt Fathom's Interview-
"Well you've told us what we needed to know." Nathalie says.
Because what else could that get out of this man.
His brown eyes were dark and dull, his office smelled of tobacco and mint, and mistakes in his kind of world were unacceptable. His statement was exactly the same as it had been on the night of Emilie's death. Nothing had changed, so all she had left to do was show him the butterfly brooch found a few feet away from Emilie's body.
"I've never seen that before." He said it as if it was nothing because it really was nothing to him.
"That'll be all for now." The detectives say, "thank you Mr. Fathom."
As Nathalie and Penny walk out that building, Penny glances back, still uneasy about it all.
"What a strange man?" She tells her partner.
Nathalie agrees, "they're all strange, Penny. It's the wealth, the power they think they hold."
"Who's next?"
"Amelie Graham de Vanily."
Amelie Graham de Vanily's First Interview-
Amelie played the victim too well.
With her, the detectives couldn't stay on a question for long. Any detail that turned even slightly graphic made her shut down immediately. Tears and sobs.
Nathalie wants to ask her more, wants her timeline of events. Everything she could remember that occurred the night of the diamond's dance.
"I know it's hard for you Ms. Graham de Vanily-" Penny tries to be gentle with her words, but Amelie's crying isn't helping. They hadn't even gotten half way through the interview and Amelie is a weeping mess.
"We can take a break, if you need."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she hiccups in between sobs, "it's so terrible for me every time I have to remember what happened to my sister."
"We-"
Amelie cut her off, "I need a break."
Nathalie and Penny agree, leaving her luxurious penthouse, hoping they'll be able to reschedule this much needed interview.
As Amelie watches the two women leave, the tears against her pale cheek begin to dry too quickly. She wipes them away with trembling hands, knowing that her own secrets cannot be exposed.
Amelie Discovers Colt's Affair-
They had just finished lunch.
Afterwards, Amelie and Colt had an award ceremony to attend. Felix, their son was once again placed at the top of his class. She was supposed to be in the shower. That had been what she had told them, anyway, once lunch came to an end. Colt had told her he'd wait downstairs while she got ready for the afternoon, and Amelie had already turned on the shower.
She'd only gone back into the bedroom because she'd forgotten her earrings on the windowsill. It was such an ordinary thing that she almost missed them entirely.
Emilie's car sat at the end of the driveway, her sister standing beside the driver's door. Amelie didn't think anything about it.
Then Colt stepped out of the front door. He didn't look back towards the house, neither of them did. He crossed the driveway with the confidence of someone who knew he wasn't being watched. He said something that made Emilie laugh, reached up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, such a familiar gesture because he had done the same to Amelie countless times before.
Her stomach tightened at the sight of him doing the same to her sister.
Colt suddenly cupped her face, and then, with such familiarity it made Amelie's stomach drop, he kissed her. He held her face in both hands and kissed her as though he had done it hundreds of times before.
Amelie was frozen, shocked, confused.
What just happened?
Amelie couldn't move. Colt came back upstairs, asking why she hadn't showered yet.
"Did you kiss my sister?" She asked bluntly.
He stopped, looked at her as though she'd spoken in another language.
Then came his laugh, brief, dull.
"What kind of question is that?"
"I watched you, Colt."
"No-"
"You forgot I have a window?” She was still standing next to it, and that’s when he knew she knew.
He said nothing. Didn't deny it, didn't argue, didn't admit it.
After that, Amelie knew that when he came late it wasn't because he was working but because he was sleeping with her sister.
The humiliation was beyond comprehension.
Then hatred was born.
Towards him, towards her. She remembered Colt coming home smelling faintly of jasmine perfume months ago. Emilie always wore jasmine. She remembered the lingering stares between them and she'd dismissed it because she trusted her sister more than she trusted herself.
Memory, Amelie realized, was a very cruel thing. It cut together things that had never made sense before, but now it did make sense.
But perhaps, the thrill and desire had disappeared for Colt once he knew his wife knew. He stopped coming home late. He stopped carrying that sweet jasmine scent on his clothes. Still, that didn't diminish Amelie's quiet hatred and deep anger. And despite such intense feelings, she hadn't been brave enough to confront her sister.
Until, two days before the diamond's dance,
Amelie discovered something terrible.
"What are all these transactions? She asked her husband.
"I don't know what you mean."
"It's a lot of money, Colt. Too much money." She said, "why?"
Colt was quiet for a while. Wasn't sure if he should tell her or not.
Then he did, "your sister has me right where she wants me."
"I don't understand?"
"She asks for too much." He continued. "Money, properties, whatever she thinks she can squeeze out of me."
"You-"
"She's pregnant," Colt finally revealed.
Amelie felt her knees tremble, she needed to sit down.
"She can ruin me, Amelie."
For a long moment, she simply stared at him.
Then something inside her broke.
“Don't!" Her voice echoed through the room. "Don't you dare stand there and speak as though this happened to you. You expect me to feel sorry for you?" A dull laugh escaped her. "You climbed willingly into my sister's bed. You did this to yourself!"
This time, Amelie truly felt like she hated her sister.
More than ever before. "I spent years thinking she was the better twin. All this time she was nothing but a whore hiding behind my face!"
Colt walked away in the midst of her breakdown.
Amelie collapsed, crawled towards the mirror, staring at her reflection. The face was like her sister's and that made her sick in a way she hadn't ever felt before.
"You'll pay for this, Emilie..."