Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of the Guest Room
Downstairs in the east wing of the house, the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the dimly lit hallway.
Marguerite closed the door to the newlyweds' bedroom, leaving Henri to guard Nathan, and walked briskly down the hall toward the guest room. Her mind was a chaotic storm of conflicting emotions. Could the soft-spoken girl who had spent the last two years loving her son and tending to their garden really be a cold-hearted thief who had driven a girl to her death? Or had her brilliant son allowed a dark, untamed obsession to twist his mind into a weapon of cruelty?
When Marguerite opened the guest room door, she found Gérard standing near the window, holding a glass of warm water, while Élise sat huddled on the edge of the twin bed.
Élise had pulled a heavy knitted blanket around her shoulders, covering the delicate lace of her wedding dress. She was still shaking, her cheeks pale and stained with mascara tears.
"Gérard, please give us a moment," Marguerite said softly.
Gérard nodded sympathetically, patted Marguerite on the shoulder, and stepped out, closing the door behind him.
Marguerite walked slowly toward the bed. She didn't sit down immediately. Instead, she stood a few feet away, her eyes searching the young woman's face—looking for any sign of deception, any trace of the cold monster Nathan had described.
"Élise," Marguerite began gently, her voice thick with emotion.
At the sound of her name, Élise flinched, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
"Mom..." Élise choked out, her voice barely audible. "Please... don't let him come near me. Please. He... he isn't the man I loved. He looked at me tonight as if he wanted to tear me apart."
Marguerite sat down on the far edge of the mattress, taking a deep breath to steady her trembling hands.
"Nathan told us about Camille, Élise."
The effect of the name was instantaneous and terrifying.
Élise’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock, and the small amount of color left in her face drained away completely. She dropped her head into her hands, her shoulders shaking with deep, silent, agonizing sobs.
"So... so he knows," Élise wept, her words muffled by her palms. "He knows about the blueprints... he knows about the bridge..."
Marguerite’s heart sank like a stone into a deep well. The confession, implicit and devastating, seemed to confirm Nathan’s nightmare.
"So it's true?" Marguerite asked, a tear escaping her eye and rolling down her wrinkled cheek. "You framed that poor girl? You let her take the blame for something you did?"
Élise snapped her head up, her eyes burning through her tears with a desperate, fierce intensity.
"NO!" Élise cried out, grabbing Marguerite’s forearms with surprising strength. "No, Mom, no! I never framed Camille! Camille was my best friend! I loved her!"
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"Then why did the file come from your laptop?" Marguerite demanded, her voice rising in desperate search of the truth. "Nathan found the digital timestamp, Élise! He has proof!"
"Because my laptop was stolen that night!" Élise sobbed frantically. "I didn't steal the blueprints! My father did!"
