Chapter 4 - Terminal Departure
By 12:30 PM, the sun was shining bright over the tarmac at Charles de Gaulle Airport.
I stood at Gate K43, holding two passport folders containing our boarding passes for Air Canada Flight 875 to Montreal. Maya was holding her sister's hand, looking wide-eyed at the massive Boeing 777 parked outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Mommy, is grand-père going to meet us at the airport over there?" Maya asked, pulling on my sweater.
"Yes, sweetie," I smiled, kneeling down to straighten her collar. "Grandpa Pierre built a snow house in the backyard just for you two, and your aunt Sophie has already made a room ready for us."
My father, Pierre Laurent, had moved back to Quebec five years ago after retiring from his engineering firm. When I called him three weeks ago, sobbing in the middle of the night after finding Victoria’s lace underwear in Antoine’s travel bag, my father hadn't hesitated for a single second. “Pack your bags, my girl,” he had said. “Bring my granddaughters home. Let him have his empty life.”
And that’s exactly what I did. I spent those three weeks quietly organizing our exit. I sold my car, transferred my savings into an international account, resigned from my remote consulting job, and signed the lease termination on our apartment. All while Antoine was floating on cloud nine, completely oblivious, convinced he was a genius who was about to trade in his old family for a shiny new one.
"Final boarding call for Air Canada Flight 875 to Montreal," the gate agent announced over the loudspeaker. "All remaining passengers please present your boarding passes at Gate K43."
"That's us, girls," I said, taking their tiny hands in mine. "Let's go."
As we walked down the jet bridge, a strange sense of absolute liberation washed over me. Eleven years of being made to feel small. Eleven years of being told that my daughters were a "disappointment" to the Bastien family legacy because they weren't boys. Eleven years of watching my mother-in-law sneer at every dinner party because I hadn't produced an heir to carry their precious name.
All of it was dropping away with every step I took down that carpeted ramp.
Meanwhile, back in Paris, total chaos had overtaken the Bastien headquarters.
Antoine was driving like a madman through the streets of the 8th arrondissement, running red lights, his phone pressed to his ear as he desperately tried calling my father, my sister, my friends—anyone who might know where I was.
"Pick up, damn it! Pick up!" he screamed at his dashboard.
He slammed his car to a halt in front of our residential building, jumping out without even locking the door. He took the elevator three stairs at a time, racing down the hallway to Apartment 4B.
He threw open the door with his spare key. "Chloé! Chloé, stop this nonsense right now!"
His voice echoed off bare walls.
The apartment was completely empty. The curtains were gone. The living room sofa, the television, the girls' toys, the family photos—everything was stripped down to the bare hardwood floor. On the kitchen counter sat a single white envelope addressed to him in my neat handwriting.
Antoine sprinted across the room, snatching the envelope and tearing it open with trembling hands.
Inside was a copy of the divorce decree he had signed less than two hours ago, accompanied by a small, handwritten note:
Antoine,
You asked me to keep the girls. I am granting your wish. Do not look for us. Do not call us. As of 10:17 AM today, Maya and Lily no longer have a father—by your own choice.
Enjoy your son.
Chloé.
Antoine’s legs gave out. He collapsed onto the cold kitchen floor, clutching the piece of paper against his chest, letting out a raw, desperate howl that bounced off the empty walls of the home he had destroyed.
His phone buzzed on the floor beside him. It was his mother, Éléonore.
May you like
"Antoine!" she cried, her voice hysterical over the speaker. "We spoke to the lawyer! He says because you signed the full waiver of parental rights in the divorce decree, Chloé has absolute legal authority to relocate the children anywhere in the world! You gave away all your rights! Where is she?! Where are my granddaughters?!"
"She’s gone, Mom..." Antoine sobbed into the empty room, tears streaming down his face. "She took them... She's gone."
