At the centre of the irregularities was Matthias von Eltz, his cousin and the company’s financial director.
Matthias was charming, sociable, and extremely popular among executives who valued expensive dinners more than financial transparency.
He also deeply resented Alaric’s likely succession.
When Alaric requested the original procurement records, Matthias smiled.
“You’re taking an unusual interest in children’s furniture.”
“I’m interested in the invoices.”
“Of course.”
“Then you’ll have no objection to providing them.”
Matthias’s smile thinned.
“Not at all.”
The records arrived incomplete.
Two weeks later, anonymous accusations appeared in an internal report alleging that Célestine had shared confidential hospitality research with a competing hotel group.
The allegation seemed plausible to employees who already knew she’d lied about her family.
Alaric read the report carefully.
Then read it again.
Something was wrong.
The confidential file cited as evidence had been accessed on a date when Célestine no longer had system permissions.
He asked for the access logs.
Matthias’s office refused.
Alaric went directly to the independent audit committee.
For the first time, the fight was no longer about Célestine alone.
It was about who controlled Maison Vesper, and how far that person was prepared to go to keep it.
Célestine knew nothing about the investigation when a registered letter arrived at her apartment.
It informed her that she was being accused of improperly retaining company research.
She sat at her kitchen table, reading the letter.
Then she called Alaric.
He answered on the second ring.
“Célestine?”
She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice.
“I received a letter.”
“I know.”
“Did you believe it?”
He was silent for a moment.
“No.”
Her grip tightened around the phone.
“Why not?”
“Because the dates don’t match.”
She almost laughed.
That was Alaric.
Even now, he trusted a timestamp more than an emotional appeal.
“I didn’t take anything.”
“I believe you.”
She looked down.
“Thank you.”
“Célestine, don’t contact anyone from the company about this yet. The audit committee has opened a formal investigation. Your solicitor should respond to the letter.”
She listened.
Then said, “Why are you helping me?”
Alaric looked out of his office window.
“Because you deserve to be judged for what you actually did. Not for something someone invented.”
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then Célestine asked quietly, “And what about the other things?”
He knew what she meant.
Their kiss.
The months of difficult conversations.
The possibility neither had been brave enough to name.
Alaric closed his eyes.
“I don’t know yet.”
It was the most honest answer he had.
The investigation lasted four months.
During that time, Célestine found work at a small independent arts foundation in Rouen.
The salary was lower.
The office was cramped.
But she was good at the work.
She organised community exhibitions, developed educational workshops, and discovered that starting again was not nearly as humiliating as she’d feared.
Alaric, meanwhile, spent increasingly long evenings reviewing financial records.
With the audit committee’s support, he uncovered evidence that Matthias had approved inflated contracts through businesses connected to his associates.
The confidential file attributed to Célestine had been copied from a shared archive after her departure.
An employee in Matthias’s office eventually admitted that he had been instructed to create the misleading report.
The audit committee referred the financial irregularities for further investigation.
Matthias was suspended.
The false accusations against Célestine were formally withdrawn.
Maison Vesper issued her a written acknowledgement clearing her of the alleged data misuse.
