29. Investigation
Samantha
The night was difficult. My thoughts kept returning to our ransacked apartment and my destroyed work. How will the school react? Will they make me repeat the year? Without my parents’ financial support, I can’t afford that. My savings won’t be enough.
I also thought about Alexander. About our relationship. Our worlds and our priorities are so different.
Will we be able to adjust to each other? I’m not sure.
In the morning, he comes to my room at the hospital to take me back to the penthouse.
He looks awful—drawn features, dark circles under his eyes. He clearly didn’t sleep well either.
He approaches cautiously, as if afraid I might pull away, and kisses me awkwardly in the hair, as though he’s no longer sure he has the right. I let him, without moving away, but I don’t lean into him either.
“Weren’t you supposed to work today?” I ask, surprised to see him.
“I managed it,” he explains simply.
I’m about to protest. I don’t want him giving up his responsibilities for me. The last thing I want is for him to take care of me out of guilt. That wouldn’t be healthy—for him or for me.
As if he can read my thoughts, he stops in hallway and looks straight into my eyes.
“Stop overthinking everything. You fell and lost consciousness. The doctor said someone needs to keep an eye on you. So that’s what I’m going to do.”
“But—”
He places a finger over my lips.
“I’ve organized things with David and my team. Everything’s under control. I’ll do my video calls from the penthouse.”
I nod. I don’t have the energy to argue.
We get into the car. No driver today—Gilles is on vacation for the week. Alexander opens the door for me, and I suppress a grimace of pain as I sit down, my bruises reminding me of themselves all too sharply.
Once inside the apartment, Alexander turns to me.
“Would you rather settle on the couch or in the bedroom?”
“The couch, if that’s okay.”
“On the contrary,” he replies. “That way I can keep an eye on you. Get comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
He disappears for a moment, then returns with a pillow and a thick comforter, arranging them carefully until the couch becomes a small cocoon.
“Would you like something hot to drink?”
“An herbal tea… but I can make it.”
“Not today. Let me take care of you, okay?”
His firm tone leaves no room for argument.
I nod. There’s no point resisting.
Once he sees I’m settled, wrapped up in the comforter, he takes my phone, plugs it into a charger, and hands it back to me.
“Thank you.”
A fragile smile curves his lips before he sits down at the dining table with his laptop.
I wait for the battery to recharge enough before checking my messages. One from Emelyne, sent that morning, immediately catches my eye.
Emelyne: Alexander and Matthieu told us everything.
Oh my God, Sam, I hope you’re okay. We’re taking the night train tomorrow evening.
We’ll stop by the police station first, then the apartment to assess the damage.
We should arrive the day after tomorrow in the early afternoon.
We’ll stay at Matthieu’s place. It’s time I finally meet my “brother-in-law.” I wonder what a police inspector’s apartment looks like.
Are there handcuffs everywhere… Oh God, I’ve just had terrible images pop into my head!
I need to bleach my eyes immediately! We love you. See you in two days.
I laugh at her nonsense.
I must have fallen asleep at some point. When I wake up, Alexander is still working.
Sensing my gaze, he looks up.
“Do you need anything?” he asks, attentive.
I smile and shake my head.
He’s making an effort to be available — I can see it.
I’ll admit I don’t really know how I feel. I’m still upset that he didn’t answer his phone when I needed him. It feels like a betrayal I’m not ready to forgive, because if the situation had been reversed, I would have picked up.
That’s how I see love: the other person becomes my priority.
And I’m not even talking about the fact that he compared me to Kristel.
Does he really see me that way?
I don’t know what hurts the most.
That he thinks I’m capricious and overbearing, like my sister.
Or that he still has feelings for her.
The questions I had been refusing to ask myself start rushing in.
Did I make a mistake by getting into a relationship with him so quickly?
He doesn’t feel emotionally available to me.
We’re going to have to talk. Really talk. Otherwise, doubts and unspoken things will pile up… and eventually poison our relationship.
I must have dozed off again, because when I wake up, Alexander is reheating takeout for lunch. The smell suddenly reminds me how hungry I am.
“So, what delicious thing did you cook for us?” I tease.
He laughs, and the sound hurts me as much as it warms my heart.
“You’d be surprised by my culinary talents.”
He sets a tray on the coffee table filled with Vietnamese dishes: bún bò, spring rolls, steamed dumplings.
“Were you able to do what you needed this morning?” I ask, biting into a crispy roll.
“Yes. Don’t worry.”
We talk like before, but I sense a certain restraint between us—as if we no longer quite know how to position ourselves with each other.
After lunch, Alexander shuts himself in his office for a video conference, then comes back to sit near me. I try to read, but it takes too much effort. I eventually give up.
That evening, we eat dinner early. Alexander then helps me shower and get into bed. His eyes darken at the sight of my bruises. They cover my body, blooming in unsettling colors.
He washes me gently, with infinite care. There’s nothing sexual in his gestures—only pure tenderness. And I surprise myself by hoping.
Maybe he can learn. Maybe he can change. Maybe there’s still hope for us.
That night, we sleep curled up against each other but that closeness doesn’t erase what has fractured between us—only the hope that we might meet again somewhere, as long as we keep moving toward each other.
*
Emelyne calls me on Saturday while Alexander is working out in the penthouse gym.
“I didn’t dare call you yesterday,” she says. “Alexander told us you were sleeping a lot. I didn’t want to wake you. How are you today?”
“Better. Much better, even if I’m still sleeping a lot.”
“That’s normal. You need to recover.”
“And Alexander? How are things between you?”
“He’s present,” I reply. “Attentive. But I don’t really know what to think.”
I tell her everything—how he dodged Elias’ question, and how he didn’t answer when I called him.
“Your situation isn’t simple,” she says. “But you loved that man for years. I’m not saying you should forgive him right away, but… maybe give him a chance to prove himself? And if he screws up again, I’ll personally kick his ass.
“Thank you for being here.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
*
The Saturday, then the Sunday, pass gently. Alexander is more available, even though he still works a little. We watch television, snack on junk food.
On Sunday afternoon, the intercom buzzes. Alexander gets up and goes to open the door.
The moment it opens, Emelyne rushes toward me and wraps me in such a tight hug that I can barely breathe.
“Easy!” I protest, laughing. “Watch my bruises.”
She immediately lets go, mortified.
“I’m fine,” I reassure her. “I’ve missed you both so much.”
Mara kisses me in turn, then I briefly greet Inspector Sanders.
“Coffee?” Alexander offers.
“Gladly,” they reply.
We settle around the coffee table, steaming cups in our hands.
“Based on what we’ve found, nothing was stolen,” Mara explains. “It’s possible the burglar was looking for information about the progress of my investigations, but I can’t be sure. In any case, he left empty-handed.”
I picture the overturned table. The broken objects. My canvases thrown against the wall.
Emelyne’s hand tightens around mine while Alexander’s gaze darkens with guilt.
“In any case, we now know the burglar’s identity,” Matthieu says. “His name is Samuel Gonzalve. A wanted notice has been issued. If he’s still in Paris, we won’t be long in arresting him.”
He pauses.
“The evidence collection is complete. You can change the lock and start cleaning the apartment.”
At the end of the discussion, Mara walks him to the door. Their low-voiced conversation, punctuated with laughter, reaches us in muffled fragments.
“To think she’s been dating a police inspector for four months without telling us anything!” Emelyne fumes as soon as the door closes.
I can’t help but laugh.
When Mara comes back, she sits down and takes a deep breath.
“I’ll go to the apartment tomorrow to clean up, see what can be saved and what needs to be thrown away.”
“We’re coming with you,” I say immediately.
“No. You stay here with Emelyne. You work on your graduation projects.”
“You can’t do everything on your own.”
“I won’t be alone,” she replies with a mysterious smile. “I found a few strong arms to help.”
I smile, wondering who she could possibly have recruited. Knowing her, she’s probably mobilized a small army.