54. Twice the Impact
Alexander
I’m preparing for my investor meeting when David bursts into my office, buzzing with excitement.
“What brings you here?” I ask as he drops into the chair across from me.
“I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
He’s enjoying this way too much, the little bastard.
“The good news.”
“MatchMapping sign-ups have jumped 15% since last week. Since the viral post, every single woman is trying to find her Alexander, and every man is dreaming of finding his Samantha. Activity on the app is blowing past our most optimistic forecasts. What was considered professional suicide turned out to be a winning move.”
“I didn’t do it for that,” I reply, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“I know. Just a nice little bonus.”
I grin openly. Ms. Bertau is going to choke on that. It’ll shut her up for good.
“And the bad news?” I ask.
“You’re going to have to redo your presentation for the shareholders. Everything’s changed with these new numbers.”
“Fuck.”
David laughs.
“Come on, it’s good news in disguise. You get to tell them not only that we avoided disaster, but that we turned a crisis into an opportunity.”
He’s right. But that means reworking the entire pitch. I wonder if it’s too late to take a spontaneous vacation.
*
Sitting in Dr. Lebrun’s office, I review the latest events of my life with her.
“You’ve done remarkable work on yourself, Alexander,” she says. “You can be proud of how far you’ve come.”
“So… that’s it?” I ask, hopeful.
“No,” she answers gently. “You’ll always be someone with workaholic tendencies, someone who’s been betrayed and who can feel jealousy.
The temptation to fall back into old patterns will never completely disappear.
But now that you’re aware of it, you’ll recognize the warning signs.
As long as you stay vigilant, you’ll remain in control. ”
“I understand,” I say after a moment. “That’s how you build a healthy relationship, isn’t it? By being attentive. By staying aware.”
“Exactly. The difference is that now you have the tools to manage those emotions instead of letting them control you.”
*
When I get back to the penthouse that evening, Sam smiles at me from the drafting table I just bought for her. She doesn’t get up to greet me; her brush, loaded with watercolor, keeps gliding over the Arches paper with delicate precision.
I love watching her paint. There’s so much beauty in the gesture. Absolute focus. A kind of communion with her art.
She brings beauty into my life.
“So?” she asks without looking up, completely absorbed.
“Dr. Lebrun says I’m on the right track.”
Her smile widens. She finishes the section she’s working on, carefully rinses her brush, sets it down, then comes to wrap her arms around me.
Our embrace is tender. We simply savor being together.
“That was my last session,” I tell her softly. “I can’t promise to be perfect. But I can promise to work on myself every day.”
“I don’t need a perfect man,” she replies, lifting her eyes to mine. “I love you with your strengths and your flaws. And now that we’ve chosen each other, you won’t be alone against your demons—and I won’t be alone against mine.”
Her words move me more than she’ll ever know.
*
That evening, we meet the whole group at the restaurant. Manon, Oliver, David, and Florence are already seated at the table. We’ve barely finished greeting them when Emelyne, Mara, and Matthieu arrive as well.
The evening is pleasant, filled with laughter and gourmet dishes—until Kristel walks in, accompanied by two of her friends.
She stops beside our table, her gaze sweeping over Sam and then me, filled with a mix of contempt and barely restrained rage.
“What a charming little scene,” she sneers. “You really deserve to be put on display right here, right now, in front of everyone. What do you think people will say when they find out my beloved little sister stole my fiancé? We’ll see what that does to your IPO.”
The atmosphere around the table freezes instantly.
I look at her calmly, not even bothering to stand up.
“True, the shareholders wouldn’t appreciate that kind of revelation,” I reply evenly. “But if you do this, I’ll protect Sam. And I won’t hesitate to reveal your own role in all of this.”
“No one will believe you!” she snaps—though I catch a flicker of doubt in her eyes.
“Unless I have proof.”
A stunned silence falls over the table.
“Tell me, Christelle,” I say, “did you really think I left that day without a recording of your betrayal?”
Her face goes pale.
“You… you’re despicable!”
“No. I protect the people I love. And do me a favor: the next time we cross paths, walk the other way.”
Fury floods her features. She looks ready to explode when Matthieu calmly sets his napkin down on the table.
“If I were you, I’d stop right there.”
His tone is composed. Professional. Ice-cold.
“The man you hired to trash the Marais apartment and destroy Sam’s artwork has been arrested. He confessed. And he gave us your name.”
A heavy silence falls over the table.
“That’s not true.”
“Willful destruction of property with premeditation carries up to two years in prison and a €30,000 fine.
More if there are aggravating circumstances. Not to mention harassment and repeated threats.”
He pauses.
“The prosecutor’s office has been notified.”
Her hand trembles as she grips her own arm.
“You’re bluffing.”
Mara steps in, her voice steady.
“The wire transfers, the encrypted messages, the surveillance footage, and the contractor’s testimony form sufficient evidence for formal charges.”
Christelle stands frozen. In shock.
Then she turns to Sam, her eyes shining.
“You’re not going to do this to your own sister.”
Sam looks at her with calm.
“I wasn’t the one who hired someone to destroy my apartment, Christelle.
I wasn’t the one who tried to sabotage an IPO.
I wasn’t the one who crossed the line.”
A dense silence spreads through the restaurant.
“You went too far.”
Her voice is steady.
“It’s time for this to end.”
The mask of superiority on Christelle’s face begins to crack.
“So you hate me that much?”
Sam holds her gaze for a long moment.
“No.”
A slight pause.
“I’m choosing myself.”
And that is more brutal than any insult.
I step in as well.
“From now on, any attempt to contact us will go through our attorneys. We will be seeking a restraining order.”
At last, Christelle understands.
This is no longer a family quarrel.
It’s the consequence of her actions.
She takes a step back. Then another.
Her friends exchange an uneasy glance… and edge away from her.
Her downfall has already begun.
She leaves the restaurant without looking back.
This time, it isn’t a dramatic exit.
It’s a retreat.
The summons arrived three weeks later.
Christelle never tried to contact us again.
And for the first time in a long while, the silence was no longer a threat.
It was peace.
*
Saturday morning, I wake Sam by making love to her gently. Her sleepy moans turn into sighs of pleasure as my touch slowly pulls her back to consciousness.
“I think I could get used to this,” she murmurs afterward, curled against me, the sheets tangled around us.
There’s no better moment.
“Come live with me,” I say softly.
She lifts herself slightly, studying my face as if weighing my sincerity.
“Are you sure?” she asks. “Isn’t this a little fast?”
“We’ve already lost enough time,” I reply, brushing her cheek. “I want to wake up with you every morning. I want this penthouse to be our home. I want to build a life with you.”
A slow smile spreads across her lips.
“Okay,” she says simply.
“Okay?”
“Yes. I’ll move in with you.”