Chapter 16
LUC
The footage goes live.
The Times-Picayune website reloads with the new story. A video player embedded above the fold. A headline screaming across the top. EXCLUSIVE: Surveillance Footage Shows LaCroix CEO at Private BDSM Club.
Simone's sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop. She sees my expression and closes her eyes.
"It's up," I say.
She doesn't ask to see it. She doesn't need to. She knows what's in that footage better than anyone. The question is how much the Times-Picayune decided to show.
I click play.
The video quality is better than I expected.
The footage is clear, edited together into a brief compilation.
It shows Simone entering Dominion, Simone in the private room.
There's enough to confirm she was there, enough to show the lifestyle elements, but not explicit enough to be pornographic.
The footage was carefully curated to cause maximum scandal without crossing into the territory the paper can't publish.
The editing is smart and professional. Someone with experience knew exactly what to include and what to cut.
I analyze the camera angles more carefully. "These are interior shots. The positioning, the quality..." I pause the video, zoom in on a frame. "This is from inside the club. Armand's surveillance system."
Simone's jaw tightens. She knew it came from Armand's operation, but seeing the evidence confirmed makes it real.
I shut the laptop. "They kept it relatively tame. There's nothing that shows explicit activity."
"Just enough to confirm everything Armand wanted people to know." Her voice is flat and exhausted. "How long before every other outlet picks it up?"
"Already happening." I grab my phone, scan the notifications flooding in. News alerts, social media mentions, and media requests. The story is spreading fast. "CNN, Fox, MSNBC. They're all running with it soon."
I open my messages, text Remy:
Footage is live. Full forensics on the leak. Find the source.
His response comes back in seconds:
On it. Hunting now.
Simone's phone lights up. She glances at the screen, silences it. It rings again immediately—different number. She silences that too.
"Media requests?" I ask.
"Investors. Board members. People I haven't talked to in years are suddenly very concerned about my well-being." She sets the phone face down on the table. "Patricia just texted. She's expressing her support. She's hoping I'm holding up okay during this difficult time."
The words drip with false sympathy.
"Want me to handle the phone?"
"No. Let them call. Let them see I'm not answering." She stands, moves to the window. The guest house is dark outside, the estate security keeping the perimeter clear. "We need a statement. Something that goes out tonight."
"I'll contact Henry." I pull up his number, call. He answers immediately.
"I saw," Henry says without preamble. "I'm revising the statement I was working on now. Should have something to you soon."
"Make it sharp. Acknowledge the footage exists, condemn the leak, emphasize this is evidence in a federal case that should never have been made public."
"Already there. I'll send it over for Simone's review."
I hang up, turn back to Simone. "Henry's on it. Statement soon."
She nods, moves back to the window. I move behind her, dig into her shoulders. Every muscle locked tight.
"Talk."
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit."
She's quiet for a long moment. Then she leans back against me.
"I'm angry. I'm violated. And I'm tired of being violated.
Armand did this. Then someone on my board leaked it to make sure it caused maximum damage right when I need to be strongest." Her voice goes hard and cold.
"Patricia's probably celebrating right now. "
"Remy's hunting the source. Digital forensics, file metadata, access logs. If Patricia touched this, we'll find it."
"And then what? She'll have used intermediaries. We won't be able to prove it."
"Maybe. Maybe not." My hands frame her face. "But proof's not the only kind of pressure."
She holds my gaze for a moment, then nods.
"Armand's in custody. Julien's dead. The surveillance is over." I keep my voice steady. "The criminal threat is done. But the consequences are just starting."
"I know." Her shoulders lock. "The board's going to use this. Patricia's already positioning herself. This is what she's been waiting for."
"Yeah."
Henry's message arrives: Statement draft attached. Review ASAP.
I forward it to Simone. "Henry came through."
We spend the next while going through his draft.
He's kept it focused and sharp. Acknowledges the footage exists.
Condemns the leak as another violation of privacy.
Emphasizes that this is evidence in a federal criminal case that should never have been made public.
Makes it clear that whoever leaked this footage is following Armand Deveraux's playbook of using illegal surveillance to damage her.
Simone approves it with minor edits. Henry sends it out within the hour.
By late that night, the story is everywhere.
Every major news outlet is running coverage.
Social media is exploding with commentary.
Legal analysts are debating whether leaking evidence from a federal case crosses ethical or legal lines.
Business reporters are speculating about the impact on LaCroix Petroleum.
Conservative commentators are using the footage to moralize about leadership and judgment.
And underneath it all, the lifestyle angle. BDSM. Private clubs. Alternative sexuality. Every article manages to work in some reference to Fifty Shades, some attempt to explain kink to a mainstream audience, some barely veiled judgment about her choices.
Simone reads through the coverage methodically. Not flinching. Not reacting. Just cataloging the damage.
"We should get some sleep," I tell her late that night. "Tomorrow's going to be worse."
"How can it be worse than this?"
"Because tomorrow the vultures show up in person." I close her laptop. "Media camped outside your penthouse, outside the estate, outside LaCroix Petroleum headquarters. Reporters shoving microphones in your face every time you move. That's when it gets worse."
She doesn't argue. Just starts toward the stairs.
"Wrong way."
She stops, turns. "What?"
"You're sleeping in my bed." I stand, move toward her. "From now on."
"Luc—"
"Not negotiating." I scoop her up before she can finish the protest. She makes a startled sound but doesn't fight it. I carry her down the hall to the primary suite, push the door open with my shoulder, and dump her on my bed.
She lands with a small bounce, looks up at me. "Bossy."
"Yeah." I strip off my shirt, drop it on the floor. "Get used to it."
I follow a few minutes later after checking the security feeds one more time. The perimeter is clear. The estate security is handling the media presence on the public road. There are no immediate threats. Not yet.
By dawn, the vultures have returned.
The media vans line the public road outside the estate. There are satellite trucks, camera crews, reporters doing stand-ups with the Pascal mansion in the background. They can't breach the property line, but they don't need to. They just need to be visible, ready to capture any movement.
Simone's phone hasn't stopped ringing since dawn. I answer it once to tell the caller no comment and to contact Henry Castellanos. After that, I just let it ring.
"They're going to follow me everywhere," Simone says, staring out the window at the media presence. "Work, home, gym. Everywhere."
"Not everywhere. Just public spaces." I hand her coffee. "And we'll make sure you're not alone when they do."
Her phone buzzes with a text. She glances at it, then shows me the screen. Margot.
Need to talk. Dominion members concerned about background footage. Can you come by the club this morning?
Simone texts back:
On my way soon.
"Want me to drive you?" I ask.
"Yes. And I want you in the meeting with Margot. This affects your security protocols as much as it affects Dominion."
We take the armored SUV, one of my security team following in a second vehicle for additional coverage.
The media presence thickens as we approach the Warehouse District.
There are news vans parked near Dominion, reporters clearly staking out the club hoping for footage of members entering or leaving.
"They're going to make this impossible," Simone says quietly.
"They're going to try." I pull into the underground garage beneath Dominion, bypassing the media entirely. "Margot knows what she's doing. She'll have protocols in place."
Margot's waiting in her office when we arrive. She looks like she hasn't slept. Isabella's there with Remy. He must have brought her in to help. Along with them are two others Margot introduces as Dominion's legal counsel and head of security.
"Thank you for coming." Margot gestures us to chairs. "We have a situation."
"Background footage," I say.
"Yes. The Times-Picayune edited carefully, but the footage shows Simone's scene partners. Faces are partially visible in some shots." She pulls up a tablet, shows us a screenshot from the published video. "We've been fielding calls from people worried about being identified."
Simone leans forward. "How bad is the exposure?"
"Minimal in the published footage. But we have to assume whoever leaked this has access to the full surveillance archives.
Everything Armand collected." Margot's expression is grim.
"If they decide to release more, or if someone with facial recognition software analyzes the footage frame by frame, scene partners could be identified. "
"What are you doing about it?" I ask.
"Crisis protocols. We're contacting everyone who might have been captured on the surveillance footage. Offering legal support, media training, security consultation. Some are handling it calmly. Others are terrified about being outed."