Zen's gaze shifted to Catherine, who met his eyes without flinching. "You suspect me," she stated calmly. "That's reasonable. I would suspect me too.""But it wasn't Catherine," Laurent interjected. "She was one of the few Tom trusted implicitly.""Why?" Zen challenged. "What made her trustworthy when clearly someone in his inner circle wasn't?"Laurent exchanged a glance with Catherine, who gave him a slight nod. The old banker reached for a folder on the table beside him, handing it to Zen."Because of this," he said simply.Zen opened the folder to find documents detailing financial transfers—not involving the Rossi family or Marcus, but Catherine herself. Specifically, substantial sums moving from her accounts to various charitable foundations focused on supporting victims of trafficking and addiction."Catherine was funding rehabilitation programs for victims of Slow Poison addiction," Laurent explained. "Anonymously. She has been doing so for years, long before Tom began his inv

The narrow streets of the 15th arrondissement provided both challenge and opportunity as Zen, Catherine, and Sinclair navigated their escape route. Ambient city noise—distant traffic, café conversations, occasional music—masked their movements as they descended the final stretch of the fire escape into a shadowed alley."Two blocks south," Sinclair whispered, pointing toward a cross street. "Black Citroën waiting."They moved efficiently, maintaining casual postures to avoid drawing attention while constantly scanning for threats. Zen took point, Catherine in the middle, with Sinclair covering their rear. The formation was instinctive for Zen, a muscle memory from years of similar maneuvers in far more hostile territories."Don't look back," Zen instructed Catherine when he sensed her turning to check behind them. "Telegraphs our awareness."She complied without argument, surprising him slightly. For someone accustomed to control, Catherine was adapting well to following tactical comm

Marcus: "Your son-in-law won't be easy to eliminate quietly. He has resources, connections."E.R.: "Then use more capable people than last time. Whatever it costs, I'll double it. Just make sure there's nothing that can ever be traced back to us."The timestamp indicated this conversation had occurred just ten days before Tom's death."This is it," Catherine whispered. "Definitive proof that Evelyn ordered the hit."Zen's expression darkened as he continued reviewing the files. "There's more. Financial records showing Evelyn had been embezzling from the Rossi family businesses for years, using the funds to make payments to Marcus.""Blackmail?" Catherine suggested."Partnership," Zen corrected, echoing Laurent's assessment. "They've been working together since before Tom married Malia."“This is not enough proof, I need video evidence,” Tom murmured.**In the background, the sounds of conflict grew louder. Sinclair's voice came through again: "Position compromised. Multiple hostiles.

Catherine's property proved to be not just a chateau but a small estate—a graceful eighteenth-century main house surrounded by manicured gardens, all enclosed within a stone wall that offered both privacy and security. Located near the coast but well away from tourist areas, the property sat in splendid isolation at the end of a long, tree-lined drive."Home sweet home," Catherine murmured as they passed through wrought-iron gates that swung open automatically at their approach. "At least for the next forty-eight hours."Zen surveyed the grounds with a tactical eye, noting defensive advantages and potential vulnerabilities. The property was naturally defensible, with clear sightlines in all directions and limited approach vectors. Catherine had clearly selected it with security in mind.A small welcoming committee awaited them at the entrance—an elegant older woman who was clearly the housekeeper, a solidly built man who moved with military precision despite his casual clothing, and a

The chateau had transformed from elegant estate to tactical battleground in a matter of minutes. Emergency systems filled corridors with obscuring mist while strategic power failures created a disorienting environment of alternating darkness and strobing emergency lights. The cacophony of alarms, sprinklers, and intermittent gunfire completed the sensory disruption Sinclair had engineered."Status?" Zen asked as Sinclair emerged from the safe room, moving with obvious discomfort but determination."Mobile, armed, and extremely irritated," Sinclair replied, accepting the weapon Zen offered him. "Evacuation route?""Compromised," Zen stated, gesturing to the bound Marie. "She's been working with Marcus. Likely provided the layout and security details."Sinclair's eyes narrowed as he took in the situation. "Dr. Benoit?""Uncertain. Claims loyalty to Catherine."Benoit straightened, indignation overcoming caution. "I've served Catherine faithfully for years. Marie is the traitor, not me."