All Chapters of The Revenge of One Humiliated: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

136 Chapters

CHAPTER 119-2: THE CONFRONTATION 2

"They have me, Marcus. They have me. They've always had me. They had me when they were born, when they took their first steps, when they said their first words, when they got sick, when they were scared, when they were happy. They had me. I am here for them. I am always here for them. I have never abandoned them. I will never abandon them. I am their mother. I am everything they need.""It's not the same, Élianor, and you know it. You know it as well as I do. It's not the same to have a mother and a father. It's not the same to be loved by two different people, in two different ways, from two different hearts. It's not the same to know where you come from, who you come from, what made you, what builds you, what makes you who you are.""I know very well what it's like, Marcus, not to have a fa

CHAPTER 120: THE WORDS ONE DOESN'T FORGET

ÉlianorNight fell long ago when I go down to the living room. When I find him in front of the fireplace. When I watch him without him seeing me. When I listen to his breathing. When I look at his hands. His hands that held mine. His hands that held my children. His hands that never let go, never abandoned, that remained there, outstretched toward me, for six years. Since that night when I forgot his face, when I forgot his name, when I forgot everything that wasn't fear, shame, flight."Why did you come back, Marcus?" I say without entering, without sitting down, without making another move. "Why did you come back after all this time? Why did you search? Why did you investigate? Why did you move into that house? Why did you stay? Why are you waiting? Why don't you leave? Why don't you forget

CHAPTER 120-2: THE WORDS ONE DOESN'T

FORGET He is so close I can feel his warmth, feel his breath, feel his heart beating, feel everything he hasn't said, everything he's kept inside, everything he's carried alone for six years. This waiting. This hoping. This certainty that one day, one day, I would stop running. That I would turn around. That I would see him. That I would remember. That I would come back. That I would stay. That I would love him, finally, the way he loved me, the way he loves me, the way he will always love me. "I don't remember your face," I say in a voice I don't recognize—a child's voice, a voice that is afraid, a voice that hurts, a voice that tells the truth. The truth I have never told anyone. The truth I have hidden from myself. The truth I buried under tons of work, power, vengeance. The truth

CHAPTER 121: FLIGHT AND WAITING

I step back again. I step back to the door. I step back until I feel the cold wood against my back. I step back until I can't step back anymore. Until I'm cornered, trapped, caught. And I look at him. I watch him advance. I watch him come closer. I watch him reach out his hand toward me. I watch him touch me, take me, hold me, keep me, stop me from running, stop me from leaving, stop me from forgetting myself, forgetting him, forgetting us. "Stop, Marcus. Stop. I beg you. Stop," I say in a voice that is nothing more than a breath, a voice that has nothing left of the businesswoman, the boss, the one who owns ninety-one percent of this city. A child's voice. A voice that is afraid. A voice that hurts. A voice that asks only to be loved, to be protected, to be held, to be kept, to never have to run, hide, be afraid again.

CHAPTER 122: THE NIGHT OF QUESTIONS

I think of Viviane. My real mother. This woman I have never known. This woman who carried me, gave birth to me, held me in her arms. This woman who disappeared. Who left. Who left me. Who abandoned me. Who forgot me. Or who was taken. Or who was killed. Or who was made to forget. I don't know. I know nothing. I only know her name. And that she is alive. And that somewhere, somewhere in the world, there is a woman who is my mother. Who may have looked for me. Who may be waiting for me. Who may think of me every day, every hour, every minute. And who doesn't know. Who doesn't know that I'm here. That I'm alive. That I'm her daughter. That I'm the one she lost. The one she left. The one she abandoned. Or the one who was stolen from her. I don't know. I know nothing. I only know her name. And that she is alive. And that I am afraid. Afraid of finding her. Afraid of not finding her. Afraid she will reject me. Afraid s

CHAPTER 123: THE SUMMONS

Élianor The police station smells of cold coffee and paperwork, that particular odor of places where people's lives unfold in forms and official reports, where dramas become files, where pain transforms into testimonies that are sorted, archived, forgotten in cardboard boxes that end their days in dusty basements. I am sitting on a plastic chair in a hallway lit by flickering neon lights, and I watch the clock hanging on the wall, that clock whose hands seem to never want to move, as if time itself had decided to stop here, in this place where one comes when one has lost someone, when one has been a victim, when one needs justice to do what life failed to do. My hands are placed on my knees, still, composed, but inside everything trembles, everything moves, everything is agitated, everything wonders what they are going to tell me, what they have discovered, what they know about my father's poisoning, about those months when poison was poured into his body in small doses, slowly, met

CHAPTER 124 : THE SUMMONS 2

She pushes a photo toward me. A photo of those small vials used in laboratories, with labels I don't understand, names of products I don't know, but which I sense are death. The death someone wanted to give my father. The death that was prepared, organized, executed with the precision of a clockmaker assembling a mechanism whose every gear was designed to kill."We have suspicions about someone very close, Mrs. Hammond," Commander Renaud says, clasping her hands on the table, looking at me with eyes that seek to read in my soul what I am not saying, what I may know, what I don't want to know, what I refuse to see. "Someone who was present during your father's first hospitalization. Someone who insisted on bringing him home, on not doing further tests, on letting time do its work. Someone who did everything to ensure no one looked further, to ensure the explanation of an accident, a heart attack, a spontaneous coma was accepted. Someone who has an interest in your father not speaking,

CHAPTER 125 : THE SUMMONS 3

I leave the police station. I walk in the falling snow. I walk without knowing where I'm going, without knowing what I'm doing, without knowing what I'm thinking. I walk because if I stop, if I think, if I think of Sabrina, of what she did, of what she wanted to do, of what she would have done if I hadn't been there, if I hadn't hired detectives, if I hadn't put my money, my power, my will into discovering the truth—I collapse, I fall, I disappear into this falling snow, falling, falling, as if the sky wanted to cover everything, erase everything, make everything disappear. The crimes, the lies, the secrets. Everything, everything, everything.My phone vibrates. I pull it from my pocket. I look at the screen. It's Marcus. It's always Marcus. It's him who is there, who is always there. Who waits for me. Who hopes. Who loves. Who doesn't leave. Who doesn't flee. Who isn't afraid. Who is never afraid. Or who is afraid but stays. Stays anyway. Because it's h

CHAPTER 126 : THE INTERROGATION 1

SabrinaThe interrogation room is small, too small, with its gray walls, its flickering neon lights, its Formica table upon which are placed a tape recorder, a thick file, and those photos. Photos of the vials I know. That I held. That I emptied into Gérard's IVs. Photos I have looked at hundreds of times, wondering if I would go through with it. If I would kill him. If I would let him live. If I would silence him. If I would let him speak. If I would let him tell the truth. If I would let him destroy everything I built. Everything I stole. Everything I took. Everything I kept. Everything I protected. Everything I loved. Everything I hated. Everything I was. Everything I am. Everything I will be.Commander Renaud is sitting across from me, with her gray hair, her eyes that don't let go of me, her hands resting on the file, her fingers tapping, tapping, tapping, like a metronome, like a countdown, like time passing, flowing, e

CHAPTER 127 : THE INTERROGATION 2

Commander Renaud looks at me. She looks at me with those eyes that have seen thousands of liars, thousands of guilty, thousands of innocents, thousands of people who have done horrible things, things one cannot imagine, things one cannot forgive, things one cannot forget, things that remain, that remain etched in these walls, in these neon lights, in this table, in this chair, in this file, in these photos, in this evidence, in everything that is here, everything that will never leave, everything that will stay, everything that will be here when I am no longer here, when I am gone, when I am dead, when I am forgotten, when I am nothing more, nothing more than these photos, this evidence, these lies, these secrets, these crimes."You're lying, Mrs. Fabron," she says in a soft voice, almost gentle, a voice that doesn't need to shout, doesn't need to threaten, doesn't need to frighten. Because the truth is there. Because the evidence is there. Because

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