Chapter 8
LUC
The drive to Henry Castellanos's house cuts through quiet Garden District streets. Simone sits beside me in the armored SUV, not speaking. This isn't the performative silence she used when testing boundaries. This is real quiet. She's working through what just happened.
My attention stays on the threat assessment. I check mirrors, scan side streets, watch for tails. Standard operational protocol. But part of my focus stays on her—the way she's folded her hands in her lap, the tension in her shoulders, the slight tremor when headlights sweep past.
This isn't from the surveillance, though that would be enough. This is from what happened before we discovered the camera. From finally feeling the difference between performing submission and actually surrendering.
I've seen it before in people who've had their foundations crack—the stillness when you're trying to hold yourself together.
"You good?" I ask.
"Yes." Her voice is steady. Controlled. "Just thinking about what to tell Henry."
"Tell him the truth. Someone's stalking you. Professional surveillance. Your uncle might be funding it. You need his support before Armand weaponizes the footage."
"That simple?"
"That simple." I take the turn onto Henry's street. The street is lined with historic mansions and old money—the kind of neighborhood where privacy is currency. "He's either your ally or he's not. You'll know soon enough."
Her fingers curl tighter in her lap. "And if he's not?"
"Then we find someone else." I pull up to the gate, enter the code Simone provided. "But you said he mentored your father. He supported your appointment as CEO. That loyalty runs deep or it doesn't exist at all."
The gate swings open. The driveway curves through manicured grounds to an antebellum mansion lit with subtle landscape lighting. Security cameras track our approach. I can spot motion sensors from here. Good setup—not tactical-grade, but better than most civilian installations.
Henry Castellanos waits on the front gallery. He's old enough to have built empires with Simone's father. Silver hair, the bearing of someone who survived decades of calculated risks and careful alliances. He's in casual clothes but fully alert. He shows no signs of sleep despite the late hour.
Simone exits the SUV before I can open her door. Old habits—CEO taking control of her own movements. I let it go. Pick your battles.
"Simone." Henry descends the steps. "What's happened?"
"I need your counsel." She meets him halfway. "And your discretion."
His gaze shifts to me. Assessing. The look I've seen from COs evaluating new operatives.
"Henry Castellanos, Luc Pascal." Simone handles the introduction with practiced ease. "Luc is Head of Operations for Rapier Strategic. They're handling my security."
"Security." Henry's expression doesn't change, but I catch the shift in his posture. "Come inside."
The home office is exactly what I'd expect. Dark wood, leather furniture, walls lined with books and framed photographs documenting decades of business and family history. Henry gestures us to chairs, closes the door.
"Talk to me."
Simone lays it out. Clean, direct, no corporate polish. "Someone's been surveilling me at Dominion for weeks—"
"What's Dominion?" Henry asks.
"A lifestyle club." Simone's voice doesn't waver.
Henry nods once. She watches him carefully. "Do you know what that means?"
"I'm old, Simone, not dead."
The corner of her mouth lifts briefly before she continues.
"Professional-grade surveillance equipment.
Photographs delivered to my office, home, gym.
Threats escalating from observation to direct timeline.
Tonight's camera planted in a private room despite security sweeps.
Facial recognition identified Julien LaSalle in disguise as a maintenance worker. "
Henry's face remains neutral, but his knuckles go white on the arms of his chair when she mentions the photographs. When she finishes, he's silent for a long moment.
"Armand." Not a question.
"We believe so. Julien LaSalle is a former scene partner. Obsessive behavior, crossed boundaries. The club banned him months ago." Simone's voice stays level. "He's also an attorney who does legal work for Armand's exploration division. Armond’s been his primary contact."
"So Julien provides the obsession," Henry says slowly. "Armand provides the resources and timing."
His jaw sets. "The Gulf acquisition vote. He's waited until you're most vulnerable to strike."
"That's our assessment."
Henry stands, moves to the window. Looks out at grounds he's probably walked a thousand times.
"Your father and I built LaCroix Petroleum together.
Started as wildcatters with more ambition than sense.
He trusted me with his company when he died.
Trusted me to protect his daughter's inheritance.
" He turns back. "Armand has been positioning himself for years.
Building alliances. Waiting for an opening.
I've blocked him at every turn because your father would have wanted you to lead, not him. "
"I know."
"This surveillance footage. How explicit?"
"Explicit enough to cause a scandal if leaked before the vote," I say. "Not explicit enough to matter if she controls the narrative first."
Henry's gaze sharpens on me. "You're recommending she go public."
"I'm recommending she frame this as being targeted rather than being caught. Tell the board someone is stalking her. Using her private life as leverage. Make Armand's play impossible before he makes it."
"And if the board doesn't believe her?"
"Then they don't deserve her leadership." I hold his stare. "But I think you know exactly how they'll respond when you stand beside her."
Henry's eyes narrow slightly. Recognition. "When do you want to move?"
"As soon as possible. There needs to be an emergency board meeting. She tells them everything before Armand can weaponize it."
Henry nods slowly. "I'll make the calls. It needs to be soon enough that Armand doesn't have time to prepare a defense. Full attendance required." He moves to his desk, pulls out his phone. "And Simone? Your father would be proud of how you're handling this."
Her breath catches. Just slightly. But I hear it.
"Thank you, Henry."
We leave him making calls. Simone stares out the window at streets sliding past, unblinking.
"He's a good ally," I say.
"The best." She doesn't look at me. "My father trusted him with everything. Including me."
"Smart man."
"My father or Henry?"
"Both."
The corner of her mouth lifts. Just barely.
The operations center is fully staffed when we arrive despite the late hour. Margot coordinates with her security team. Remy's at the command station, multiple screens showing surveillance feeds and data streams.
He looks up when we enter. "How'd it go with Henry?"
"Henry wants to call an emergency board meeting," Simone says. "He's calling in the full board. We're controlling the narrative before Armand can use it."
Simone's phone buzzes. She glances at the screen, frowns. "Detective Broussard. He's asking about the interview tomorrow afternoon." She types quickly, then pockets the phone. "I told him we need to postpone. Board meeting takes priority. He understands."
"He'll want that statement soon," I say. "Building a prosecutable case."
"After I deal with Armand," she says. "One crisis at a time."
"Good." Remy gestures to the main display. "Andy's at the warehouse now. Sending updates."
"Talk to me." I open the comm line.
Andy's voice comes through the speakers. "Forensics is processing the site now. Should have preliminary results on prints and DNA within hours. Also running equipment serial numbers—if these were purchased through normal channels, we'll have a paper trail."
"Good. What about costs?"
"Professional surveillance cameras. Thousands each. Tens of thousands just in equipment."
Remy pulls up financial data on another screen. "Add the monitoring station, satellite capability, installation costs? Hundreds of thousands. Maybe more."
Simone's face goes pale. "Julien doesn't have that kind of money."
"No." I lean against the table. "But your uncle does."
"Armand has the resources," Remy says. "Has the motive. And he's connected to Julien through legal work on the exploration division."
Margot pulls up files on her tablet. "Ran what background I could on Julien LaSalle in the time we've had.
Database shows multiple former partners filed restraining orders.
Pattern of obsessive behavior. One ex found tracking software on her phone.
Another found cameras in her apartment. All settled out of court with NDAs. "
"He's done this before." Simone's voice is tight.
"Multiple times." Margot sets down the tablet. "But those were personal obsessions. Crimes of passion. This?" She gestures to the warehouse photo. "This level of surveillance takes planning. Resources. Direction."
"How did he get into Dominion with that history?" Simone asks.
Margot grimaces. "He didn't have that history when we vetted him.
First restraining order was filed six months after he joined.
The others followed. All sealed as part of settlement agreements.
Our standard background checks wouldn't have caught sealed court records.
I'm only seeing them now because Detective Broussard pulled his full law enforcement file. "
"Someone's using his obsession as cover," I say. "Make it look like a stalker when it's actually a calculated attack on Simone's position."
My phone buzzes. Text from Andy.
"Julien's phone activity?" I ask.
"Last ping hours ago. Near this warehouse. Signal dead since."
A professional stalker doesn't go dark right after planting a camera unless he knows we're onto him. Which means someone tipped him off. Or he wanted to be found.