Chapter 55

In spite of Julie’s misgivings, the months came and went swiftly. Michel and Al Shiraz attended the horse show where they won a standing ovation from the audience and came away with the coveted Judges Choice award. Michel was ecstatic for weeks.

Time went by and the seasons changed. Suddenly it was the end of November. Luc’s thirtieth birthday, and the end of their married life, was getting nearer and nearer.

* * *

Slowly, Clarice started down the stairs. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to maneuver them these days.

God, I hate being pregnant. How Julie can look so radiant and comfortable is more than I can understand. My figure’s ruined—shot to Hell. No man’ll ever look at me again. I’m going to be pregnant forever.

Reaching the bottom, she stood there breathing heavily, one hand pressed against her chest. I swear, once Luc and I are married, he’s getting a vasectomy. I’m not going through this again.

All the baby’s weight seemed to be resting on one side. She felt off-balance and clumsy, as if she were going to topple over with every step she took.

I ought to castrate both of them. My dear husband and his brother. Cut off those precious Family Jewels with one of Mattie’s carving knives. That way, I’d be certain to get the one who did this to me. Oh, God, I’m so tired. I hate this baby.

The study door was open. She dragged herself inside. Jean-Luc wasn’t there, but since the door was ajar, she expected he’d be coming back soon. Wandering over to the desk, she saw a stack of papers laying there. Since her snooping in Luc’s room had been so profitable, Clarice had no compunctions about looking through Jean-Luc’s paperwork.

She picked up the top sheet. Transfer of Ownership.

She read further, stopping when she saw Luc’s name. So that’s why Jean-Luc has been spending so much time at his lawyer’s. He was preparing the paperwork for Luc to receive his Trust, and also transferring total ownership of San Souci to his oldest grandson.

He can’t do that. He mustn’t. She threw the paper onto the desk. It’s not fair. Michel’s worked hard, training those damned horses, making them into winners, and Jean-Luc’s going to take it away from him? Michel deserves San Souci. Not Luc.

She wasn’t angry merely on Michel’s behalf, of course. If worse came to worse and Luc refused to marry her after he and Julie were divorced, Michel was her ace-in-the-hole, the one who’d care for her and her baby. If Michel lost San Souci, there’d be nothing for any of them. That paltry little Trust Fund of two million dollars from Michel’s mother wouldn’t be enough.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Clarice replaced the paper atop the others as Jean-Luc came into the study.

“Hello, Clarice. Did you want to see me?”

Clumsily, she whirled around. “It isn’t fair, Gran’père.”

“What isn’t?” He frowned, not understanding.

“Giving San Souci to Luc.” She gestured at the papers.

Looking a little annoyed that she’d been going through his private papers, Jean-Luc nevertheless said mildly, “It’s a part of his inheritance as eldest son.”

“Part of his inheritance?” she repeated. “Luc doesn’t deserve it.”

Clarice didn’t try to hide her anger, and that startled Jean-Luc. He’d seen her vindictive, snide, and sullen, but never so emotional before, especially to him.

“Michel’s the one who should have it.”

“Michel will remain as manager, Clarice. I intend to arrange that he and Luc share the profits.”

“Share?” she shrieked. “Michel share with Luc when he’s done all the work…ignoring me for that damned horse?”

“Clarice, calm down.” Jean-Luc made little soothing gestures with his hands. “You’re getting too upset.” He nodded to the couch. “Sit down.”

“You’re damned right I’m upset. I don’t want to sit down.” She moved away from the couch as if he were going to force her onto it. “Luc doesn’t deserve San Souci or the Trust. He shouldn’t get anything.”

“Be honest, Clarice.” Jean-Luc’s’ next words shocked her into silence. “You don’t care who gets the money. It’s yourself you want it for. As either Michel’s wife or Luc’s mistress.”

She stared at him.

“I care for you, Clarice,” he continued. “But that doesn’t mean I’m blind to the fact that you’re a selfish little bitch.”

With a breath so sharp it was almost a gasp, Clarice raised both hands, the nails biting into her palms. She couldn’t believe Jean-Luc was speaking to her that way. For a moment, all she could get out was a strangled gurgle.

“Luc’s fulfilled the requirements of the Trust,” he went on. “He’s settled down now, married, changed his life.” He began gathering the papers.

“He’s changed nothing. He’s the same spoiled schemer he’s always been. You’re so gullible, Jean-Luc.” Regaining her voice, Clarice screamed at him. “You’re such a fool. You weren’t blind to me? Well, you’ve been deaf, dumb, and blind to Luc.”

“What do you mean?” Jean-Luc turned to look at her.

“I mean, Luc’s marriage is a lie. He married that woman the day before he came here, just to get the Trust. That little girl…your precious Merry? She isn’t even his. He lied to you, Jean-Luc.”

“Nevertheless…” Expression unchanging, he surprised her by the calmness of his answer. “…he’s done as Étienne wanted.”

“So, he gets the money? He lied, falsified his marriage, and he still gets the money?” Clarice turned away, looking around frantically as if for an answer, then back at Jean-Luc. “I can’t believe it. Luc can do no wrong, is that it? He can lie, cheat, steal, and it’s all right?”

“Clarice, you’re working yourself into a state. It isn’t good for the baby—”

“The baby!” It was the wrong thing to say. She was in a fury now and Jean-Luc’s attempts to calm her were only making it worse. “Oh yes, the baby. Let me ask you this, Jean-Luc—if lying doesn’t bother you, how about adultery…or rape?”

“What are you talking about? Luc’s never—”

“Oh, but he has. Just as he’s done so many things you don’t know about.” She laughed and the sound became a wail of anger. “It wasn’t me chasing Luc, it was the other way around. When I begged him to stop, to leave me alone, h-he forced me, Jean-Luc. He raped me.”

Violently, she struck herself on the belly.

“This isn’t Michel’s baby I’m carrying. It’s Luc’s. Your precious grandson’s an adulterer—and a rapist! Is that all right? Do you accept that, too?”

Jean-Luc didn’t answer. He’d gone pale, drawing in three sharp, rapid breaths. Gasping raggedly, one shaking hand touched his throat, clawing at his collar. The other scrabbled at the desk as he lost his balance and fell to the floor.

My God, he’s having an attack. Clarice stared at him as he lay at her feet, feebly trying to get up. I’ve got to call Michel. She looked at the desk, at the unsigned papers. If Jean-Luc doesn’t sign those papers…if he dies and I talk about Luc, then he’ll lose everything and Michel will get it all…and I have Michel.

Carefully, she stepped over Jean-Luc’s body and walked to the door.

A sound behind her made her look back.

“Clarice…please..” Jean-Luc’s eyes opened, one hand groping toward her.

Clarice’s resolve failed her. Screaming for Michel, she ran from the study.