9. The Masks Fall

The scandal had shaken the Delcourt empire to its very core.

Headlines multiplied like wildfire:

> "Clara Delcourt, the Forgotten Heiress"

"Illegally Committed: A Family's Shame"

"When the Powerful Decide Who's Crazy"

Photos of Clara—emaciated, hollow-eyed, confined in a Swiss facility—had spread across the internet. The public was outraged. Foreign media began picking up the story. Each article was another hammer blow to the polished image of the Delcourt family.

Inside the mansion, it felt like siege time.

Curtains stayed closed. Staff moved like shadows, faces blank. In the main meeting room, Lina, Julian, and Raphaël had been arguing for over an hour. Empty glasses littered the table. Voices rose and fell, always ending in heavy silences.

— "We need to regain control," Lina snapped, slamming her fist against the table.

— "Control of what?" Raphaël shot back coldly. "Public opinion's against us. Evidence is piling up. Clara is alive."

— "Exactly. As long as she's not back on French soil, we can still contain this."

Julian raised his eyes, visibly exhausted.

— "Contain what? Another disappearance? You really think that'll work again?"

— "I've survived worse," Lina growled. "You don't last in this world by being soft."

Raphaël stared at her, jaw clenched.

— "You don't get it... This isn't just a scandal. This is war. And Jassy isn't alone."

A frigid silence followed.

Lina leaned in slowly.

— "Then let her know—we aren't either."

---

Meanwhile, Jassy was advancing like a general on the battlefield.

Malik had just published a ten-page exposé in Le Monde. It detailed forced sedation, prolonged isolation, forged diagnoses. A handwritten note from a psychiatrist, thanking "J.D." for his generosity, was the final nail. The initials needed no explanation.

But the true turning point came with Gabrielle Pradier's video testimony. Unmasked, trembling but resolute, she told her story. At the end, she said:

— "I didn't save Clara when I could have. But I won't stay silent now."

The video went viral.

Hundreds of support messages poured in. Petitions were launched. Even former political figures called for a parliamentary inquiry into psychiatric practices in private clinics.

---

But Jassy wasn't the only one watching.

From a black car parked not far from her building, a man tracked her every move. He photographed her, recorded her, documented her habits. On his phone, encrypted exchanges with someone named "LV."

Louis Vernay.

A name Jassy had yet to learn—but one that would soon shift everything.

---

One gray morning, as she descended into her building's underground garage, a figure stepped out from behind a pillar. Still. Silent.

— "Miss Delcourt?"

She froze, her hand inside her handbag, ready to spray.

— "Stay back."

— "I mean no harm. I'm Louis Vernay."

— "I don't know that name."

— "But you know Andréas."

She blinked.

— "Andréas?"

— "My fiancé. The one Julian Delcourt destroyed."

A long silence fell. Thick. Unyielding.

Then, slowly, she unlocked her car.

— "Get in."

---

At a quiet café near Canal Saint-Martin, dimly lit by the pale morning, Louis told her everything. The startup he'd built with Andréas. Their revolutionary clean energy project. The sudden interest from Delcourt Group. The buyout. The threats. The harassment. And finally… the staged "suicide." A forged letter. A silent funeral.

— "They erased his name like a line in a contract."

— "And why speak now?"

— "Because I was afraid. And because I've been waiting for someone like you."

She recorded every word. Took notes. Absorbed the weight of it all. Until she finally asked:

— "Did Raphaël know?"

A slow, painful nod.

— "He was in the final meeting. He signed. He said nothing."

---

That night, she returned to the mansion.

She didn't live there anymore, but she still had a room. And tonight, she was ready to confront Lina.

In the grand salon, the matriarch was waiting, wrapped in a dark shawl, standing by the fireplace with a glass of cognac in hand.

— "You want to face me? Come. But know this—I'm not an easy enemy."

— "I'm not a child anymore. I'm not afraid of you."

— "You should be. You've opened a box you'll never be able to close."

— "That box contained Clara. And she's alive."

— "You really want to bring down your own family?"

— "If that's the price of truth, then yes."

— "You don't have Delcourt blood."

— "I'm glad. It means I'm not poisoned by it."

Lina stepped closer, breathing shallow, eyes hard.

— "You've dug your own grave, little girl."

Jassy met her gaze without flinching.

— "Then I hope it's wide enough to bury you with me."

---

The war had begun.

And this time, there was no turning back.

Jassy stood at her window that night, staring out over the dark gardens. Her reflection stared back at her.

Strong. Changed. Unbreakable.

— "Clara... I will bring you home. I swear it."