Daniel reached for the notebook.

I held it away.

“No.”

“Claire.”

“You’re not taking this.”

“I need to explain.”

“You’ve had six years.”

He stared at me.

“I thought Michael was dead.”

“You still lied.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because after the wedding, you started having migraines.”

The words struck me unexpectedly.

I looked at him.

“What?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“Three weeks before the wedding, you collapsed at your apartment.”

I searched my memory.

Nothing.

Daniel continued.

“The doctors thought it was stress. You had memory gaps.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t remember any of this.”

“You were frightened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because Michael warned me.”

“About my memory?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

Daniel’s voice became quieter.

“He said someone had drugged you.”

My throat tightened.

“What?”

“He believed you had been exposed to something that affected your memory.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you have proof?”

Daniel looked at the notebook.

“That’s what Michael gave me.”

I flipped through the pages again.

There was a second reference to Room 1407.

Underneath it:

The woman remembers only what she is allowed to remember.

I felt sick.

“I was there.”

Daniel didn’t answer.

“In Prague.”

“Yes.”

“With Michael.”

“Yes.”

“You were there too?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because Michael recorded the meeting.”

My fingers tightened around the notebook.

“The video.”

Daniel nodded.

“The one you showed us.”

“There are more.”

“How many?”

“Seven.”

I stared at him.

“Where are they?”

“One is in the USB.”

“And the rest?”

“Michael distributed them.”

“To whom?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then why did Elena say I needed to remember?”

Daniel looked at me.

“Because you were in the room.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“You were.”

“No.”

“You were sitting beside Michael.”

“I would remember.”

“You were sedated.”

The word echoed inside the car.

Sedated.

I closed my eyes.

The red umbrella returned.

The coffee cup.

Michael’s face.

His voice.

“You don’t know your husband as well as you think.”

I opened my eyes.

“I remember what he said.”

Daniel went still.

“What?”

I whispered it.

“He told me not to marry you.”

Daniel stared at me.

I kept going.

“He said, ‘Daniel isn’t the man you think he is.’”

Daniel looked away.

“And what did you say?”

“I said I loved you.”

His jaw tightened.

“What else?”

I searched my memory.

“He asked me to take something.”

“What?”

“A key.”

Daniel’s eyes widened.

“What key?”

“I don’t know.”

I put both hands against my temples.

Then I saw it.

A brass key.

Long.

Old-fashioned.

A number engraved into the metal.

1407.

I gasped.

Daniel reached toward me.

“Claire?”

“I had it.”

“What?”

“The key.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

I suddenly remembered standing in a hotel hallway.

Michael pressing the key into my hand.

His voice urgent.

“Whatever happens, don’t give this to Daniel.”

I opened my eyes.

Daniel was watching me.

“You told me not to marry you,” I said.

“No.”

“You told me I was confused.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“You told me Michael was unstable.”

“I was trying to keep you alive.”

My voice broke.

“You let me believe he was dead.”

“Yes.”

“You let me believe the person who warned me was a liar.”

“Yes.”

“You made me think I was imagining things.”

Daniel’s eyes filled with something I couldn’t name.

Regret.

Fear.

Maybe both.

“I thought it was the only way.”

“You were wrong.”

“I know.”

The car behind us flashed its headlights.

Thomas walked over.

He opened the passenger door.

“Something’s happening.”

Daniel turned.

“What?”

“Your bank called.”

“What about?”

Thomas looked at me.

“The trust suspension hit every lender tied to Bennett Group.”

Daniel’s expression tightened.

“They froze the bridge.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

Daniel swore.

Thomas continued.

“And there’s another problem.”

“What?”

“Someone just accessed the Meridian acquisition server.”

Daniel leaned forward.

“From where?”

Thomas hesitated.

“Prague.”

I looked at Daniel.

The air inside the car seemed to disappear.

Thomas handed him his phone.

“An account logged in using your credentials.”

Daniel stared at the screen.

J’ai regardé par-dessus son épaule.

Ce n’était pas le nom d’utilisateur de Daniel.

C’était une suite de chiffres.

Thomas fit défiler.

Puis il s’est arrêté.

“Oh non.”

« Quoi ? » ai-je demandé.

Il a tourné l’écran vers nous.

Ce compte ne se contentait pas d’accéder à des fichiers.

Il était en train de télécharger quelque chose.

Un dossier nommé :

CLAIRE_BENNETT_ORIGINAL

J’ai eu un frisson d’effroi.

« Qu’est-ce que c’est ? » demanda Daniel.

Thomas secoua la tête.

« Il y a un horodatage. »

“Quand?”

« Il y a six ans. »

Je fixais l’écran.

« Pourquoi quelqu’un aurait-il téléchargé un dossier portant mon nom il y a six ans ? »

Thomas l’ouvrit.

L’écran était rempli de documents numérisés.

Rapports médicaux.

Historique des déplacements.

Factures d’hôtel.

Et une photographie.

Moi.

Debout devant la chambre 1407.

Tenir la clé en laiton.

J’ai fixé l’image du regard.

Mes genoux ont flanché.

« Je ne me souviens pas de ça. »

Daniel m’a regardé.

“Je sais.”

Thomas fit défiler jusqu’au dernier document.

Il s’agissait d’une déclaration signée.

Ma signature figurait en bas.

J’ai lu la première ligne.

Puis il s’est arrêté.

« Claire ? » demanda Daniel.

Je ne pouvais pas parler.

Thomas l’a lu à sa place.

« Moi, Claire Bennett, confirme que le 17 octobre 2020, j’ai été témoin du transfert par Michael Bennett d’éléments de preuve concernant le Bennett Family Trust à un tiers. »

Daniel fixait l’écran.

« Cette signature… »

Thomas regarda de plus près.

« Elle est à elle. »

J’ai secoué la tête.

« Je n’ai jamais signé ça. »

Thomas fit défiler la page plus loin.

Au bas se trouvait une seconde signature.

Daniel Bennett.

Et en dessous, une phrase écrite à la main.

Elle se souvient maintenant. Emmenez-la à Prague avant lui.

Daniel resta complètement immobile.

« Qui est “lui” ? » ai-je chuchoté.

Thomas regarda la dernière ligne.

Son visage changea.