The office felt suffocating in a way it never had before. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the silence that greeted Vincent as he walked in was almost palpable. Conversations cut short the moment his presence was felt, eyes flickering toward him with unease, only to dart away just as quickly. He had always commanded respect here, but now? Now, he was a man marked—his name no longer a badge of honor, but a noose around his neck, tightened by scandal, suspicion, and the weight of a name that once held power but now invited only whispers.
His reputation, once solid, was now a subject of hushed murmurs and side glances. His very presence here, in this office that had once been his domain, felt like an affront to the walls themselves. Yet, Vincent didn't care. If he let their whispers touch him, let their judgment seep into his soul, then he would lose. And he wasn't about to lose. Not yet.
He walked into Mathieu's office without hesitation, not even bothering to knock. He could feel the weight of the room shift as soon as he entered. The eyes of the staff in the outer office followed him, their gazes lingering before they quickly returned to their work, but no one dared stop him.
Mathieu's office was a stark contrast to the tense energy outside. It was quiet, almost too quiet, save for the faint sound of the old man's pen scratching across paper as he worked. When he finally looked up, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise.
"You've forgotten your manners," Mathieu remarked, his voice low but carrying a hint of amusement.
Vincent's jaw tightened. "I don't have time for manners," he shot back, his tone sharp as he shut the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the silence.
Mathieu sighed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he studied Vincent. "Then I assume this visit is important." He gestured lazily to the chair across from him, but Vincent didn't sit. He stood, tall and imposing, like a storm ready to break.
"Tell me what you've heard," Vincent demanded, his voice steady but underlined with urgency.
Mathieu smirked, clearly unfazed by the force in Vincent's words. "Straight to it, then," he said, pouring himself a drink. The amber liquid swirled around the glass as Mathieu took a leisurely sip. "People are talking. Your name's on their lips for all the wrong reasons."
Vincent's fists clenched at his sides, but he remained silent. His heart drummed a relentless beat against his ribs, but he didn't let it show. His eyes narrowed.
Mathieu's gaze flickered over Vincent, lingering just a moment too long before he continued. "And Katherine? She's more than just a woman in trouble. You do realize what you're up against?"
The mention of her name struck Vincent like a punch to the gut. He swallowed the anger and fear that rose within him and forced himself to remain calm.
"I know exactly who Madame Dupont is," Vincent replied, his voice thick with determination, though he could feel the tremor of unease settle deep in his chest.
"No," Mathieu corrected, leaning forward now, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don't."
The weight of Mathieu's words hung in the air like a promise of something far worse. "Dupont doesn't just run a brothel—she runs an empire. She has judges in her pocket, businessmen wrapped around her finger, and enough dirt on the city's elite to burn them all down if she wanted. You think she won't use that against you?"
Vincent's jaw locked, his entire body going rigid. "Let her try," he said, his words barely a growl, but full of lethal conviction.
Mathieu exhaled, rubbing his temple as if exhausted by the stubbornness in front of him. "Christ, you're stubborn."
"Do you have something useful to tell me, or are we just wasting time?" Vincent snapped, his voice low, but tinged with impatience.
Mathieu paused, then, without another word, reached into the drawer of his desk. He pulled out a thick folder, the edges worn from age, and slid it across the table toward Vincent. "I did some digging," he said, his voice laced with caution. "You might want to sit for this."
Vincent's brows furrowed as he took the folder. He opened it, the first few pages filled with dry financial records—Dupont's earnings, the names of men who paid her for her services, hidden transactions that painted a picture of a well-oiled, but dark, business empire.
But as his eyes moved further into the folder, the pages began to darken, both literally and figuratively. Testimonies. Witness accounts. His gaze froze on one in particular, a report from a girl who had tried to escape Dupont's clutches, only to vanish without a trace shortly afterward. The pages held other accounts too—men who had crossed Madame Dupont, and for their mistakes, had lost everything. Some had even lost their lives.
And then there were the police reports—files that had mysteriously never gone anywhere, though they were filled with damning evidence.
Vincent's grip on the paper tightened, his knuckles turning white as his pulse quickened.
"She's been covering up crimes," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with disgust.
"More than that," Mathieu said quietly, tapping a particular document with a finger, making Vincent's eyes dart to it. "This one? This is the one that could burn her to the ground."
Vincent scanned the page quickly, his heart racing as he absorbed the information. The truth was undeniable. This was more than just a crime. It was the kind of thing that could destroy everything she had built. If this got out, Madame Dupont wouldn't just lose her power—she would be ruined. Her empire, shattered. Her name, obliterated.
Mathieu watched him carefully, his eyes sharp, as if waiting for Vincent's next move.
"So, what's next?" Mathieu asked, his voice heavy with the weight of the decision Vincent was about to make.
Vincent closed the folder with a sharp snap, his decision made, and met Mathieu's gaze with cold certainty. His voice was ice, his tone ruthless.
A silence stretched between them. Mathieu's gaze lingered, his lips parted as if to say something, but he was momentarily lost for words. His eyes softened with a tinge of sympathy, but he masked it quickly.
"Are you sure you're ready for all of these?" Mathieu asked, leaning back in his chair, watching Vincent carefully. "Dupont isn't the only enemy you have. She's got people who will move the heavens and earth to protect her. You think you've seen everything? You haven't."
Vincent's eyes flashed. "I've already lost everything. What's left to fear?"
Mathieu's voice lowered. "She's not just any businesswoman, Vincent. She's a predator. She's made enemies, real enemies, and she's crossed lines that can't be undone. Do you know where she came from?"
Vincent's brow furrowed, and he shook his head.
Mathieu paused, the weight of the question sinking into the air between them. He leaned forward, his gaze dark and deliberate. "France" he said. "We never knew what she was running from… Where did she come from?"
Vincent frowned, still not fully understanding what Mathieu was driving at. "Or who?" he asked, his voice edged with impatience.
Mathieu's expression darkened, his voice rising from a whisper. "Exactly!."
Vincent's pulse quickened at the subtle change in Mathieu's tone. His instincts kicked in, but his voice betrayed no reaction. "But who?"
Mathieu hesitated for a long moment, his eyes darting from the folder to Vincent's. When he spoke, his words were deliberate, heavy. "A man named Lucien Boudet. He's a notorious drug lord. One of the most powerful in all of France."
Vincent's heart skipped a beat, though his face remained stoic. "Boudet…" The name echoed in his mind, his thoughts wondered, Madame Dupont's full name was Dupont Lucien Boudet, "Now it made sense."
Mathieu leaned back, with the most exciting smile, his voice low but unwavering. "Sources say he's been looking for her for years now. She betrayed him, took everything from him. And now, he wants her back. He's ruthless, Vincent. He'll stop at nothing."
Vincent absorbed the information, his mind whirling. This was a weapon he hadn't anticipated, one that could change everything. But he would bide his time. He would wait until the moment was right.
Mathieu's eyes locked with his. "Now, what will you do?"
"Now, I set fire."