Étienne Dubois Calls His Daughter
Chapter 08 - Étienne Dubois Calls His Daughter
Sophie did not say Papa.
Not at first.
She said:
“Where are you?”
Étienne laughed softly.
Same laugh.
Older.
It made her furious.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“Avignon.”
“Why did police find the house empty?”
“Because Vittorio found the address first.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Are you lying?”
A pause.
“No.”
She believed that one.
Alessandro moved away from the table.
Privacy.
Good.
Étienne asked:
“Are you with Moretti?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then:
“Matteo’s son?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know?”
“Enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you don’t get to manage the conversation.”
Another pause.
“You sound like your mother.”
“Good.”
Sophie asked the questions that mattered.
Why no contact?
Why eleven years?
Why let her believe gambling was the whole story?
Étienne answered badly at first.
Protection.
Danger.
Vittorio.
Sophie cut him off.
“Try again.”
Silence.
Then truth.
“Shame.”
There.
He had lost money.
Laundered money.
Betrayed his diplomatic oath.
Lied to Claire.
When the scandal broke, he told himself disappearing protected them.
After enough years, returning required admitting that disappearance had also been cowardice.
Claire refused his letter.
That made staying away easier.
Then Claire died.
He almost called Sophie.
Did not.
“Why?”
“I thought you would hate me.”
“I do.”
The words came fast.
Étienne breathed.
Sophie continued.
“I also don’t know you anymore.”
“That is fair.”
Better.
He said he was willing to surrender to French authorities.
Not because of the phone call.
He had already arranged it.
The Arles house was a staging point.
He had spent years as a confidential source but never fully resolved his own crimes.
Now the Geneva box made that impossible.
“What about the vineyard?”
“I don’t care about the vineyard.”
Sophie’s voice sharpened.
“I do.”
Of course.
He apologized.
Again.
Then told her one last secret.
The trust deed in Camilla’s mother’s trunk was real.
But Domaine Dubois itself carried a life tenancy.
A woman had been living there under another name.
Sophie frowned.
“Who?”
“Your aunt.”
“I don’t have an aunt.”
Her mother Claire had a younger sister.
Madeleine.
Family estrangement.
Another secret.
Sophie nearly laughed from exhaustion.
Madeleine remained at the vineyard after foreclosure as estate manager.
Vittorio never knew she was Claire’s sister because she used her married surname.
She kept the vines alive.
For fifteen years.
“She knew I existed?”
“Yes.”
“And never contacted me?”
“She promised Claire not to.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
Enough promises.
“Give me her number.”
Étienne did.
No resistance.
Progress.
Then he asked:
“Will you come to France?”
Sophie looked at Alessandro across the restaurant.
He was studying the wall, not her.
“I don’t know.”
“Fair.”
After the call, Sophie sat quietly.
Alessandro returned only when she waved him back.
“My father is surrendering.”
“How do you feel?”
She almost laughed.
“Hungry.”
He called the waiter.
Correct response.
Three days later, Étienne Dubois surrendered in Marseille.
The news exploded.
FORMER FRENCH DIPLOMAT IN WINE-LAUNDERING PROBE.
Sophie’s photograph from an old Sorbonne article appeared online.
Then her L’Étoile Noir employment.
Reporters found the restaurant.
Her tips vanished because management closed for two days.
Monsieur Laurent offered paid leave.
Sophie refused charity.
He clarified:
“Employee safety leave.”
She accepted.
Words matter.
She spoke to Madeleine by video.
Sixty-one.
Silver-blonde hair.
Claire’s eyes.
Sophie cried before either said hello.
Madeleine said:
“Your mother was furious with all of us.”
Good.
Not sacred dead mother.
Human.
Claire wanted Sophie away from the vineyard, the scandal, the wealthy families.
Madeleine obeyed.
Too long.
“I’m sorry.”
Sophie nodded.
“Everyone is.”
Madeleine almost smiled.
“French families specialize.”
The vineyard had survived.
Barely.
Its best parcels sold.
Remaining thirty-two acres.
Old house.
Cellar.
Debt manageable.
Court would decide ownership.
Madeleine wanted Sophie to visit only if Sophie wanted.
No inheritance pressure.
That mattered.
Meanwhile Alessandro’s cooperation widened.
Dana uncovered Moretti bribes unrelated to the wine network.
He did not hide them.
His attorney hated that.
Sophie heard through news, not private confession.
Good.
Camilla gave evidence against Vittorio.
She faced no criminal charge for the restaurant cruelty, obviously, and limited civil exposure around trust documents.
She resigned from two family foundations.
Started therapy, according to gossip Sophie did not seek.
Good.
Then Alessandro called.
“Dana needs you.”
“Why?”
“The 1982 bottle.”
“What now?”
Microfilm had been developed.
Mostly financial records.
One image different.
A handwritten list of six names.
Étienne.
Matteo.
Bianca.
Laurent.
Isabelle.
And:
A. MORETTI.
Sophie stared.
“Alessandro?”
He shook his head.
“I was twenty-one in 2011.”
The initials had a notation:
NOT THE SON.
Another Alessandro Moretti existed.
His grandfather.
Dead before Sophie was born?
No.
His great-uncle Alessandro—Matteo’s uncle—had lived until 2014.
Family elder.
The man who supposedly had nothing to do with business.
According to the microfilm, he controlled the earliest auction accounts.
The wine-laundering network predated Vittorio.
Predated Matteo.
Predated Étienne.
The younger generation had not invented the corruption.
They had inherited it.
Then chosen whether to continue.
Sophie looked at Alessandro.
“Does that make you feel better?”
“No.”
Good answer.
“It makes the story older.”
“Same thing?”
“No.”
He folded the copy.
“Older is not less mine.”
That was when Sophie first wanted to kiss him.
May you like
She did not.
Wanting and choosing are different.
