Chapter 5
SIMONE
Iwake to sunlight filtering through unfamiliar curtains and the disorienting awareness that I'm not in my penthouse. The guest house. The Pascal estate. The protection detail.
The stalker.
My stomach tightens as yesterday's reality crashes back. The night before last, someone stood outside this house. Watching me through the window. Documenting my presence here like they'd documented every intimate moment I'd spent in Dominion's private rooms.
Luc found cameras yesterday. Multiple cameras planted in Dominion's private rooms.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand and check the time. Early. Early enough that I could get in a workout before my first video conference, but the memory of yesterday's protocol surfaces. I'm supposed to wait upstairs until Luc clears me to come down.
Part of me wants to ignore that command. Walk downstairs, pour my own coffee, reclaim some measure of control over my morning routine. But I remember the look on his face when he found me in the main house kitchen with Isabella. The controlled fury that told me I'd crossed a line that mattered.
The ones who survive follow protocols. The ones who don't survive take risks to feel normal again.
Which one am I going to be?
I text him instead:
Awake. May I come downstairs?
The response comes within seconds:
Give me five minutes.
I use the time to shower and dress—not the silk pajamas from last night, but the professional armor I need for today's video conferences.
Charcoal slacks, cream blouse, hair pulled back in the sleek ponytail that says I'm in control even when everything feels like it's spiraling.
The woman in the mirror looks like a CEO. She looks unshakeable.
But I know she's lying.
My phone buzzes.
Kitchen is clear. Come down.
I head downstairs, each step feeling like a small surrender. He's in the kitchen when I arrive, coffee already poured, morning light slanting through the windows that are no longer threatening now that the sun's up.
"Good morning, Sir." The words come easier than they did yesterday. Maybe because I spent half the night thinking about that moment at the dinner table when I felt steadier instead of falling apart.
"Morning." He hands me the coffee. "How did you sleep?"
"Better than I expected." I add cream, take a sip. "No nightmares about someone watching me through windows."
"Protocol helps." He leans against the counter, studying me with that assessment that makes me feel seen and safe at once. "You have video conferences this morning?"
"Executive team at nine, legal review at eleven, board chair at one." I pull out my phone and verify the schedule. "All critical. The executive team's going to have questions about why I'm working remotely."
"What are you telling them?"
"Security concern. Precautionary measure. Should be resolved within the week." The lie feels smooth on my tongue. Years of boardroom negotiations taught me how to deliver half-truths with complete confidence. "They'll accept it because questioning me publicly would show weakness."
"And privately?"
I meet his gaze. "Privately, they're probably speculating about everything from corporate espionage to personal scandal. But they won't push. Not directly."
"Your uncle might."
His words land harder than I expect. "You've been reading the background files."
"I read everything about threats to my asset.
" He pours himself more coffee. "Armand Deveraux.
Your mother's younger brother. Passed over for CEO when your father died.
He's on your board and has his own company running exploration and development.
Been building alliances with executives who opposed your leadership. "
I shouldn't be surprised that Rapier Strategic did comprehensive background checks. But hearing it laid out so clinically makes my family's dysfunction feel like case evidence instead of personal history.
"Armand wanted the company. Still wants it.
But LaCroix Petroleum has always passed to direct descendants.
My grandfather's will was very specific.
" I try to keep my hands from shaking. "When my father died, the board tried to install Armand as interim CEO until I finished my MBA.
I convinced them I could run the company immediately.
Proved it by closing a deal with a Brazilian consortium that had been stalled for two years. "
"How old were you?"
"Twenty-eight. Fresh out of Wharton. Everyone thought I'd fail within six months.
" The memory still stings. "Armand tried to ensure it.
Leaked information to competitors, undermined my decisions in board meetings, positioned himself as the experienced hand who could steady the ship when I inevitably crashed it. "
"But you didn't crash it."
"No. I grew it. Doubled revenue within years through aggressive expansion and strategic acquisitions. Made every executive who bet against me look like a fool." I need something to do with my hands. "Armand's never forgiven me for that."
Luc's expression doesn't change, but I can see him processing the information. Fitting it into whatever threat assessment matrix he's building about my life.
"He's on the video conference this morning?"
"He usually is. Board members have standing invitations to executive meetings." I glance at the time. "I need to set up my laptop upstairs. Get into CEO mode before they see me."
"I'll be watching."
The words should feel intrusive. Instead, they feel grounding. Like having someone see the act for what it is instead of buying into the illusion.
I head upstairs to the workspace, boot up my laptop, and connect to the secure server Luc's tech team configured yesterday. The familiar LaCroix Petroleum interface loads, and for a moment I'm back in my element. This I can control.
Except when I glance toward the door, Luc's leaning against the frame. Not hovering. Not asking permission to observe. Just there. Watching me with the same tactical focus I've seen him use when checking the perimeter feeds.
"You're staying for the meeting?" I don't frame it as a question.
"I'm staying." He moves into the room, takes a seat in the corner where he'll be off-camera but able to see my screen. "I need to see how they interact with you."
The idea of Luc watching me command my executive team feels more intimate than anything we did at the dinner table last night. He's going to see the version of me that runs boardrooms. The polished professional who never shows weakness—the mask I've worn for years.
I pull up the video conference link and check my appearance in the camera preview. Flawless. Controlled. Every hair in place.
At exactly nine o'clock, I join the meeting.
My executive team fills the grid. CFO Whittaker "Whit" Caldwell, COO Patricia Moreau, CTO Mateo Santos, and Head of Exploration Sally Bene. Behind them, the department heads populate the remaining squares. And there, in the corner, is Uncle Armand.
"Good morning, everyone." I keep my voice crisp, authoritative. CEO voice. "Thank you for adjusting to the remote format this week. Let's jump right into the agenda. Whit, walk us through Q2 projections."
Whit launches into the financial overview.
Revenue tracking ahead of forecast, operational costs within budget, capital expenditures on schedule.
The numbers flow past me as I watch the team's body language.
Patricia's taking notes. Mateo is distracted, probably mentally drafting solutions to whatever technical problem is currently consuming his attention.
Sally's watching me with slightly narrowed eyes.
Armand's expression is unreadable.
"Questions on the financial overview?" I scan the grid when Whit finishes.
Sally unmutes. "The projections assume we'll close the new Gulf of Mexico lease acquisition by end of quarter. Are we still on track for that timeline?"
"Legal's reviewing final terms this week. I'm meeting with our counsel this afternoon." I make a note on my pad. "Barring any unexpected issues, we should have signatures before month end."
"And if there are unexpected issues?" Armand's voice cuts through.
Smooth, concerned. The voice of someone asking reasonable questions instead of laying traps.
"Given that you're working remotely this week, will you be available to negotiate in person if the sellers require face-to-face discussions? "
There it is. The subtle implication that my absence is a liability.
"I'm available by video conference for any negotiations." I keep my tone even. "In today's market, virtual negotiations are standard practice. The sellers have been conducting due diligence remotely for the past two months. There's no indication they require in-person meetings at this stage."
"Of course." Armand's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm simply concerned that after last quarter's challenges with the Angola project, we can't afford any delays that might be perceived as lack of commitment from leadership."
The reference to Angola is deliberate. A project I personally negotiated that hit unexpected regulatory hurdles, costing us months of delays and significant capital. It eventually succeeded, but Armand made sure the board remembered every setback along the way.
"The Angola project is now generating revenue ahead of projections." I meet his gaze through the screen. "And the delays were due to regulatory changes beyond our control, not lack of commitment. The new Gulf acquisition is on a completely different risk profile."
"Naturally. I'm not questioning your commitment, Simone. Simply ensuring we're prepared for all contingencies." He leans back in his chair, the picture of reasonable concern. "Particularly given the security concerns that necessitated this remote arrangement."
Every executive on the call stiffens slightly. The topic I'd hoped to avoid is now front and center.