Chapter 7 #3
Luc pulls out his phone, texts rapidly. "I want her personnel file and a full background re-check. And I want to know everyone who accessed that booking system today."
"Already on it," Margot confirms.
My stomach drops. Someone knew. Someone with access to Dominion's internal systems. Either the attendant told someone, or the booking system was compromised, or—
"Inside job," I say quietly. "Has to be."
"Or your stalker has better resources than we thought." Luc moves to the monitor wall. "Show me the feed."
Margot hesitates. "Luc, it's—"
"Show me."
She pulls up the video. The angle is perfect—capturing the bed, the positioning, everything. I watch myself on screen, bound and blindfolded, watch Luc fuck me with a roughness that looks even more intense from this angle.
"Turn it off." My voice cracks.
The screen goes dark.
Luc's expression doesn't change, but his hands have curled into fists. "They got what they wanted. Proof that you're mine now. That you're under my protection." He turns to Margot. "Where's the trace?"
"Tech's narrowing it down. Lower Garden District, near the industrial corridor. But the signal's bouncing through multiple relays. They're trying to pinpoint the exact location."
"How long?"
"Maybe another twenty minutes for a solid lock. Then Andy moves."
Twenty minutes feels like an eternity. I sink into one of the chairs, my legs shaky from the scene and the adrenaline crash hitting all at once.
Luc crouches in front of me. "You still with me?"
"Yes." I force steadiness into my voice. "I'm just trying to understand how they knew. How they got that camera in there so fast."
"That's the right question." He straightens, turns back to Margot. "Three-hour window. Professional installation. They'd need time to access the room, plant the device, test the signal. That's not a rushed job."
"Which means they knew well in advance," Margot says slowly. "Not just which room, but when you'd be using it."
The implications make my skin crawl. "The only people who knew we were coming tonight were you, Luc, Remy, and whoever you told."
"And whoever compromised the booking system," Luc adds. "Or whoever the attendant told. Or whoever's been watching you long enough to predict your patterns."
His phone buzzes. He reads the screen, and something in his expression hardens. "Andy's got a preliminary location. Abandoned warehouse on Tchoupitoulas. He's moving in now with a team."
"That was fast," I say.
"Too fast," Luc mutters. He's already texting, his thumbs flying over the screen. "I'm telling him to proceed with extreme caution. This feels wrong."
"Wrong how?" Margot asks.
"Wrong like someone wanted us to find it." He pockets his phone. "Professional-grade surveillance equipment, sophisticated relay system, but we trace the signal in under an hour? Either they're sloppy or they want us chasing this location."
"You think it's a trap?" My voice comes out smaller than I intend.
"I think it's too convenient." He pulls up security footage from Dominion's hallway cameras. "Show me everyone who accessed that corridor between four and seven."
Margot works the controls. The footage plays at high speed—club members, staff, the occasional monitor walking past. Nothing unusual. Then at 6:47, a maintenance worker appears, carrying a toolbox.
"Stop." Luc leans closer. "Who's that?"
"Maintenance contractor. We use them for HVAC and electrical work." Margot zooms in on the man's face. "I don't recognize him specifically, but—"
"Pull the work orders for today. I want to know if we had scheduled maintenance in that corridor."
Margot types rapidly. Her face pales. "No scheduled maintenance. And that's not one of our regular contractors. Wrong uniform, wrong company logo."
There it is. The inside access. Someone posing as maintenance, walking right past security because staff expects to see contractors in the building.
"Get me his face," Luc snaps. "Run it through facial recognition. And pull footage from the exterior cameras. I want to know how he got in and how he left."
Margot's already moving. The tech team swarms the workstation, pulling up additional feeds, running the facial analysis.
Luc's phone rings. "Andy. What've you got?"
I can't hear the other side of the conversation, but I watch Luc's expression shift from intensity to something colder.
"Describe it." A long pause. "No, don't touch anything until forensics gets there. I want chain of custody locked down." Another pause. "Yeah, I know it looks good. That's what bothers me." He ends the call.
"What did he find?" I ask.
"Professional surveillance setup. Multiple monitors, recording equipment, satellite uplink.
High-end gear, probably six figures' worth of equipment.
" His jaw tightens. "But the site's clean.
Too clean. No personal effects, no food wrappers, no coffee cups.
No one's been actively monitoring from that location. "
"Remote operation?" Margot suggests.
"Or a decoy site." Luc pulls up the warehouse photos Andy just sent. Banks of monitors, cables, everything you'd need for a sophisticated surveillance operation. "This is what we're supposed to find. The question is what we're not supposed to be looking at while we're focused on this."
My stomach turns. "You think this is misdirection."
"I think your uncle has the resources to fund a professional operation.
I think Julien has the obsession to want this surveillance footage.
And I think whoever's running this is smart enough to give us something to chase while they execute the real plan.
" He turns to me. "What would Armand do with footage of you submitting to me at Dominion? "
The answer makes my throat tight. "Leak it to the board. Frame it as a liability. Use it to force me out."
"When?"
"When I'm most vulnerable. When I can't defend myself." I think about the timing. "The Gulf acquisition closes next week. If he waited until right before the final vote, used the footage to destabilize my position with the board..."
"He'd have leverage to demand your resignation in exchange for keeping it quiet," Luc finishes. "And Julien gets what he wants—you discredited, vulnerable, separated from your power base."
Understanding crashes down. This isn't just stalking. This is a coordinated attack on multiple fronts. Personal and professional. Timed for maximum impact.
"So what do we do?" My voice is steadier than I feel.
"We stop reacting and start controlling the narrative." Luc's already pulling up his phone. "Remy needs to know about the timing. We need to move faster than they expect."
"How?"
His smile is dangerous. "You're going to take that footage away from them before they can use it. Go public on your own terms. Control the story."
"You want me to admit to my board that I'm being stalked before they can weaponize it against me."
"I want you to stand in front of Henry Castellanos and tell him everything.
The surveillance, the threats, the fact that your uncle is funding it.
Make him your ally before Armand can make you his target.
" Luc's gaze holds mine. "You said you'd dare the board to fire you. Now's the time to prove it."
He's right. Waiting for Armand to strike gives him all the power. But if I control when and how the information comes out, if I frame it as being targeted rather than being caught...
"I'll call Henry in the morning," I say. "Set up a meeting for tomorrow afternoon."
"Not tomorrow. Tonight." Luc's already texting. "We move before they realize we found the camera. Before they know we're ahead of them."
Margot's phone buzzes. She reads the message, and her expression shifts. "Facial recognition just came back on the maintenance worker. Julien LaSalle."
The words hit like a physical blow. Julien himself. Not some hired contractor. Not a random operative. Julien, walking into Dominion in disguise, planting a camera in the room he knew I'd be using.
"How did he know?" The question comes out raw. "How did he know which room, which night—"
"That's what we're going to find out." Luc's voice is deadly calm. "But first, you're calling Henry. Right now. We're not waiting for morning."
My hands shake as I pull out my phone. It's nearly eleven. Henry will be asleep. But Luc's right—we can't wait.
I dial. The phone rings four times before Henry's voice comes through, groggy and concerned.
"Simone? What's wrong?"
"I need to see you tonight. It's urgent."
"Tonight? Simone, it's almost eleven—"
"Please, Henry. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't critical."
A long pause. Then: "My home office. I'll be waiting."
The call ends. I look at Luc. "He'll see me now."
"Good." He's already moving toward the door. "Time to get ahead of this."