Chapter 6 - THE DAY JULIEN CHOSE THEM PUBLICLY
Julien’s resignation became international news by lunchtime.
Markets fell.
Analysts panicked.
Commentators invented explanations.
Some said illness.
Some said scandal.
One television host suggested Claire had “emotionally destabilized” him.
Julien nearly bought the network just to fire the man.
Claire stopped him.
“You resigned yesterday and you’re already looking for hobbies?”
“It would be a short hobby.”
“No.”
Emma looked up from her puzzle.
“Mommy said no.”
Julien sighed.
“Yes, she did.”
His resignation changed something else.
He suddenly had time.
Not unlimited time.
He remained chairman and controlling shareholder.
But for the first time in twenty years, nobody expected him to answer every operational call.
He took Emma to a follow-up appointment.
Alone.
Claire remained ten steps behind in the clinic hallway because she wanted to see whether he could handle it.
He could not.
The receptionist handed him four forms.
Julien stared at them like hostile merger documents.
“Primary caregiver?”
He looked at Claire.
She pointed at him.
“Do it yourself.”
He frowned.
Emma whispered, “Mommy’s being mean.”
Claire laughed.
Julien filled in Claire as primary caregiver.
When he reached Father’s Name, he stopped.
Emma watched him.
“That’s you.”
He looked at her.
Claire stopped smiling.
Julien wrote:
Julien Delorme
His handwriting shook.
The doctor confirmed Emma’s lungs were clear.
Her anemia was improving.
She needed diet changes and follow-up blood tests, but nothing suggested serious long-term illness.
Julien bought an absurd number of iron-rich groceries.
Claire removed half from the cart.
“She cannot eat six kilograms of spinach.”
“She needs iron.”
“She is not a horse.”
Emma laughed so loudly an elderly woman turned around smiling.
For a while, they almost became a family accidentally.
Then the forged five-million-euro document returned.
A prosecutor contacted Claire.
The signature had been digitally copied from their old divorce papers.
The metadata traced to a legal-services company used by Delorme Financial.
Julien’s former chief of staff, Marc Besson, had authorized the access.
Marc had worked for Julien for eleven years.
He knew every schedule.
Every password.
Every crisis.
Julien summoned him.
Marc arrived at Julien’s private office pale.
Claire insisted on being there.
“You used her signature.”
Marc said nothing.
Julien stood behind the desk.
“Answer.”
Marc swallowed.
“I was instructed to manage the situation.”
“By whom?”
Silence.
“Marc.”
“Your mother.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Julien felt something inside him harden.
“The leak too?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Marc hesitated.
“Luc Delorme.”
Julien stared.
His cousin Luc sat on the board.
He had led the effort to suspend Julien.
“What did my mother instruct you to do?”
“Create documentation showing Claire had sought a settlement.”
“Why?”
“To give the board leverage if the press situation affected the stock.”
Claire laughed in disbelief.
“So I was insurance.”
Marc looked ashamed.
Julien stepped closer.
“And the press?”
“Luc leaked the document.”
“Did my mother approve?”
Marc did not answer.
Julien knew.
Claire folded her arms.
“What else?”
Marc’s face changed.
Julien noticed.
“Marc.”
“There was another letter.”
Everything stopped.
“What letter?”
Marc looked at Claire.
“From you.”
Claire went pale.
“When?”
“Two years and nine months ago.”
Julien calculated instantly.
Shortly before Emma was born.
Claire whispered, “I sent one.”
Julien looked at her.
“You told me you sent two.”
“I forgot the third.”
Her eyes filled.
“I was in labor.”
Julien’s breath caught.
Claire looked at Marc.
“What happened to it?”
Marc’s voice dropped.
“I received it.”
Julien stared.
“It was addressed directly to me?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Your mother told me to destroy it.”
Silence.
Julien had faced armed men with less anger.
“Did you?”
Marc looked at the floor.
“No.”
Julien froze.
“What?”
“I couldn’t.”
Marc opened his briefcase.
He removed an old envelope.
Creased.
Yellowed slightly.
Julien’s name written across the front in Claire’s handwriting.
Claire covered her mouth.
“I kept it in my home safe.”
Julien did not move.
“Why?”
Marc’s eyes filled.
“Because I knew someday you might ask.”
Julien took the envelope.
His fingers shook.
Inside was one sheet of paper.
Julien,
I don’t know whether this will reach you. I don’t even know if you want it to.
Our daughter is coming early. They say she will probably be fine, but I am scared. Her name will be Emma. I chose it because once, before everything went wrong, you told me you liked names that sounded gentle.
Julien stopped reading.
Claire was crying.
He continued.
I don’t want money. I don’t want promises. I just don’t want her to grow up believing her father knew she existed and chose not to come.
The final sentence destroyed him.
If you want to meet her, come. If you don’t, I will never ask again.
Below it was the hospital address.
Julien sat down.
For nearly three minutes, he said nothing.
Claire wiped her cheeks.
Marc whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Julien looked at him.
“You let me miss her birth.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of my mother?”
“Yes.”
Julien laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“So was everyone.”
He folded the letter carefully.
Claire said, “Julien.”
He looked at her.
For the first time since the pharmacy, Claire saw no billionaire.
No chairman.
No Delorme heir.
Only the man who should have been in a hospital room three years earlier.
“I would have come,” he whispered.
Claire cried harder.
“I know that now.”
He looked at Emma’s photograph on his desk.
“I would have come.”
Claire moved around the desk.
She did not hug him.
Not quite.
But she placed one hand on his shoulder.
It was enough to break him.
Julien covered his face.
For the first time since his father’s funeral, he cried.
Not quietly.
Not elegantly.
Three lost years came out at once.
Claire stayed.
When he finally looked up, she was still there.
“Tomorrow,” Julien said, “I’m calling a press conference.”
Claire tensed.
“No Emma.”
“Never.”
“What are you going to say?”
“The truth.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
She studied him.
“What happens to your mother?”
“That depends on her.”
“And Luc?”
“He’s done.”
The next day, every major French business network carried Julien’s statement live.
He stood alone.
No Claire.
No Emma.
No family photograph.
“My former wife has been falsely accused of seeking money from me,” he began.
“The document published last week was fabricated using records from my company.”
The room erupted.
Julien continued.
“She did not ask me for five million euros.”
He paused.
“She did not ask me for anything.”
His voice hardened.
“My family and employees withheld personal correspondence from me for years. They made decisions about my private life without my knowledge.”
Reporters shouted questions.
Julien ignored them.
“Claire protected our daughter when I failed to be present. Any attempt to portray her as opportunistic is false.”
He looked directly into the cameras.
“If anyone requires someone to blame for the years I lost with my daughter, blame the people who lied.”
A pause.
“And blame me for building a life in which those lies were believable.”
Claire watched from her apartment.
Tears ran down her face.
Emma climbed into her lap.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Why is Julien on TV?”
Claire kissed her hair.
May you like
“Because he’s finally telling the truth.”
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