Mathilde receives an additional blackmail demand from Frédéric and, despite Véronique's warnings, she negotiates a deal: four million euros in two installments in exchange for the destruction of evidence and a confidentiality clause. Sophie, who secretly recorded the negotiation at the hangar, discovers that the blackmail will never stop. She saves the evidence and understands that she must act to protect her mother before she spirals like her father did. Mathilde has chosen to buy time by compromising herself morally, but she has opened a door she can never close again.
Mathilde's office is bathed in that characteristic gray light of winter mornings in Lyon—the kind that turns windows into opaque mirrors and makes the outside world as inaccessible as a black-and-white photograph. It's 7:30 AM. The lower floors of Rousseau Air headquarters are just beginning to stir, but here, on the thirty-fifth floor, silence still reigns supreme.
Mathilde sits at her desk, hands flat on the polished glass surface. She hasn't slept. The dark circles under her eyes tell the story of a night spent rereading David's letter—that belated confession discovered in the safe, those words that forever destroyed the image of the husband she thought she knew. Three signatures. Three escalating transfers. A pattern she now recognizes with painful clarity.
She hears the footsteps before she sees Véronique.
The lawyer pushes through the door without knocking, that gesture alone expressing the urgency. She carries a folder—thin but heavy with consequences—which she places on the desk with deliberate precision. Her expression is that of a doctor delivering test results he wished he didn't have to give.
"Mathilde, we have a problem. A serious one."
The folder opens to a screenshot. A message. Numbers glowing on a phone screen: 500,000 euros more.
Mathilde closes her eyes. She knew this would come. Somewhere in the depths of her instinct, she'd always known. Blackmail never stops at the first payment. It's a living organism that grows, feeds, always demands more.
"I consulted with Maître Dubois this morning at six," Véronique continues, her voice taking on that icy tone Mathilde has learned to dread. "You know what he told me? That any transfer without written agreement constitutes proof of blackmail. Proof, Mathilde. Not speculation."
Mathilde looks out the window. Somewhere out there, in the awakening streets of Lyon, Frédéric waits. Frédéric, who wears their father's signet ring like a trophy. Frédéric, who has turned a secret into a weapon, truth into an instrument of torture.
"I won't repeat David's mistakes, Véronique. Never again," she murmurs, her voice strangely calm.
Véronique leans slightly toward her. "Listen to me carefully. This man has you by the emotions, by guilt. David played that game for years. Look where it got him."
But Mathilde barely listens. She's read the letter. The whole letter. And she understands now that her husband wasn't an innocent victim trapped by a blackmailer. David was complicit in his own destruction. He knew. With each transfer, he knew. And he paid anyway, again and again, because the secret was worth more than the money.
"You're going to do it anyway, aren't you? Despite everything I just told you," Véronique says, resigned.
Mathilde picks up her bag. "If I'm going to do it, then I get a written agreement. With certified destruction of all evidence. And a non-renewal clause. It's the only way to buy time."
Véronique watches her leave. She takes out her phone and dials a number. "Maître Dubois? This is Véronique Mercier. I need to officially document that I warned my client of the legal risks before she proceeds with payments without real guarantees. Yes, I know it puts me in an uncomfortable position. But I won't be a silent accomplice."
Mathilde hears the call from the hallway. She pauses for a moment, then continues. Véronique is protecting herself legally. It's exactly what she'd do in her place.
Fifty meters from the Rousseau Air hangar, 8:45 AM.
Sophie waits in her car, equipped with a digital recorder borrowed from Luc the day before. She's followed her mother from the office and now knows the whole truth thanks to the documents Luc provided.
Eighteen hours earlier, in an anonymous Parisian café: Luc had shown her the three signatures, the three transfers, the photo of the signet ring engraved with the initials "D.R." Sophie had felt something break inside her. It wasn't the betrayal that shocked her—it was the recognition. She saw her father in those numbers, in that inevitable escalation. She also saw her mother, who was descending exactly the same staircase.
"You need to document this," Luc had said, handing her the recorder. "Not to destroy her. To protect her. When she understands what's really happening, you'll need proof."
Now, she adjusts the recorder, hands trembling not with fear, but with determination. She whispers to herself: "Not this time, Mom."
Frédéric arrives at the hangar at 9:00, wearing the signet ring like a trophy. Sophie activates her recorder and moves the microphone closer to the half-open window.
Inside the hangar, harsh industrial light.
Mathilde and Frédéric face each other, surrounded by aircraft under maintenance. The silence between them is that of two predators assessing their respective strength.
"Three million euros," Mathilde says in a firm voice. "Single payment. In exchange: signed confidentiality agreement, destruction of all evidence, and you resign from the board with sale of your shares to a neutral third party."
Frédéric smiles, playing with the signet ring. "Are you serious? Three million? Mathilde, you stole the leadership of an airline from your brother. Three million is an insult."
"I didn't steal anything. David chose."
"David chose because you knew how to manipulate him." Frédéric approaches one of the aircraft under maintenance, tracing his finger along the fuselage. "Five million, spread over two years. Plus a consulting fee of 200,000 per year, for life. That's my price to disappear."
Mathilde feels panic rising. She knew he'd say that. She also knew there would always be a sequel, always a new number, always a new demand. But she needs time. Four months to consolidate the succession, to ensure Rousseau Air is stable, to get Sophie out of this turbulent zone.
"Four million immediately," Mathilde responds without flinching. "That's my final offer. And it's only valid if you accept in writing that there will be no further demands."
Frédéric laughs—a laugh that echoes against the metal walls of the hangar. "You really think you can dictate the terms? Mathilde, I have documents. Photos. Testimonies. I can destroy this company in three weeks."
"You could," Mathilde acknowledges. "But then you lose the four million. And you inherit a legal battle that will cost you double in lawyer fees. Meanwhile, I liquidate Rousseau Air's assets, transfer the contracts to an offshore holding, and when the courts rule, there's nothing left to seize."
It's a bluff. A colossal bluff. But she says it with a certainty that makes Frédéric hesitate.
"You'd do that? Destroy David's legacy to punish me?"
"I'd do it to protect Sophie."
His niece's name passes between them like a blade. Frédéric looks away.
"Four million," he finally says. "But payable in two installments. Two million now, two million in three months. And no written agreement."
Mathilde feels the trap closing. No written agreement means he can come back in three months and demand two million more. But she also sees that Frédéric needs money now. There's something urgent in his posture, something desperate.
"Written agreement," she insists. "Otherwise, it's no."
Frédéric takes out his phone. He types quickly, then shows the screen to Mathilde. It's a message to an unknown recipient: "If I don't receive payment confirmation in two hours, send the documents to the press."
Mathilde understands. He has copies. Of course he has copies.
"When do the copies disappear?"
"They disappear when my lawyer receives the instruction. Which happens when you sign a confidentiality agreement."
Mathilde knows it's a lie. The copies will never disappear. But she also knows she has no choice. Not now. Not with Sophie listening fifty meters away.
"Agreed," she says. "Four million in two installments. Written agreement with mutual confidentiality clause."
Frédéric smiles. "There's the Mathilde I know. Pragmatic."
But what he doesn't see is the icy rage in his sister's eyes. What he doesn't see is that she's just made a decision that will change everything.
Mathilde's office, 11:30 AM.
She executes the transfer of two million euros from a dedicated account, then calls Luc.
"I need a document shredder. Professional. Industrial. I want everything reduced to confetti."
"Mathilde, what have you done?"
"Exactly what you told me not to do."
An hour later, a team arrives with a high-security document shredder. Mathilde feeds it all the compromising documents—David's letter, the screenshots, the bank statements. She watches the pages transform into indistinguishable fibers, irretrievably destroyed.
Véronique enters without knocking. She witnesses the scene in silence, then turns to Mathilde.
"David did exactly this," she says. "He thought that by destroying the evidence, he was destroying the problem."
"David didn't have a plan," Mathilde responds without taking her eyes off the shredder continuing its work.
"And you do?"
Mathilde doesn't answer. She knows Véronique is right. She also knows she's just crossed a line from which there's no return.
Véronique takes out her phone and records a voice memo: "Mathilde Rousseau has proceeded with the systematic destruction of documents potentially relevant to an investigation. I'm documenting this for personal legal protection."
She sends the memo to her own email, then looks Mathilde straight in the eyes.
"When this collapses—and it will collapse—I want you to know I tried."
She leaves without waiting for an answer.
Mathilde receives a message from Frédéric confirming receipt of the transfer. But the message ends with: "First installment received. Schedule for future payments to follow."
Mathilde understands that the cycle isn't over. It never will be.
Sophie's room, 2:00 PM.
Sophie downloads the complete recording of the negotiation. The audio quality is imperfect—hangar noises, missed passages—but the essentials are there. She listens to her mother agree to destroy the evidence, to pay four million, and to protect David's legacy at the cost of her own integrity.
She cries while listening, but these aren't tears of fear. It's something more complex—a recognition of what she'd always known: that her mother was capable of sacrificing herself to protect what mattered. And that this sacrifice would destroy her.
She saves three copies: one on her computer, one on a USB drive hidden in her room, one sent by encrypted email to a secure address.
Then she calls Luc: "I recorded everything. Not perfect, but enough."
Luc responds after a long silence: "That depends. Do you want to save your mother or the truth?"
Sophie looks out the window. She sees her mother returning home, looking exhausted, carrying the weight of a decision that will haunt her.
"I want to save my mother," she finally says. "But not by lying to her."
She hangs up.
Her phone vibrates. Anonymous message with a photo of Frédéric smiling, wearing the signet ring, accompanied by the text: "First installment received. See you soon for the next one."
Sophie understands that the blackmail is just beginning. Exactly like with David. But this time, she has proof. And this time, she has a plan.
She looks at the recorder in her hand, then at the encrypted email containing the backup copies. She thinks about Luc's question: save her mother or the truth?
She smiles, bitterly: why not both?
But first, she needs to understand what her mother is really trying to protect. And why she believes four million euros can buy time.
