“Drunk, passed out on the couch, your baby on the floor playing with a dirty diaper. I’m a mother myself, Mrs. Felfan, and frankly I was shocked. If it were up to me I would report your appalling behavior to social services in your country. Please turn your life around, I implore you. If not for you, at least for your baby.”
“But—”
“Good day, Mrs. Felfan.”
And then she hung up.
Steph sat staring at her phone. It was the WelBeQ scenario all over again, wasn’t it? Somehow the same pictures and the same story had found their way into the Sofie Fashion’s HR department’s mailbox, and had made them change their mind about offering her the job. She wanted to yell at them that it was all lies, but knew they wouldn’t believe her. Somehow pictures spoke louder than words—at least her words—even when those pictures had been doctored.
And she was still feeling dazed when a key clicked in the front door lock and her husband walked in. When he found her looking like death warmed over, he immediately crossed the floor to where she was still clutching her phone.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked as he sat down next to her and took her hand in his. “You’re completely pale. Is it Zoe?”
“No, Zoe is fine,” she assured him. “It’s the Paris job. It’s gone.” And as she explained what just happened, a cloud seemed to pass over his face.
“I have some bad news also,” he said. “You remember I told you about my godmother Evelyne de Tach??”
“Of course. What happened?”
“They read her will, and it turns out she donated her apartment and all of her possessions to the dog shelter she’s been a patron of for all these many years.”
“But I don’t understand. I thought you were the sole beneficiary of her will?”
He shook his head sadly.“Not anymore. She made a new will the day before she died, leaving everything to the shelter.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know. But I bet my parents do. Is it all right if I call them?”
She nodded distractedly. What was happening? It seemed like good opportunities left and right were vanishing into thin air. Was it a hate campaign against them? Or simply coincidence that Jeff’s godmother had a change of heart?
Her husband had taken out his phone and held it up in front of them while it connected. Moments later his parents appeared, both looking pleased to see them. David Felfan, who was in his early fifties, looked like an older version of his son, and Pauline Felfan was a distinguished-looking lady in her mid-forties. Ever since David, who had run a successful law practice in Paris before launching himself in local politics, had expressed his ambition to become the next mayor of Paris, his wife had supported him unstintingly, hosting dinner parties, organizing fundraisers and building the kind of network one needs for such an endeavor.
David had said many times that without Pauline’s support he would never have been able to get this far. With the election less than a year away, he was the frontrunner in the upcoming campaign, with many predicting he might even be the next president. After all Jacques Chirac had been mayor of Paris before he became president of the country.
“Tell us about Evelyne,” said Jeff. “What happened, exactly?”
“Well, I talked to the notary responsible for the new will,” said David. “And he told me that the day before she died, he received an urgent message to come to her apartment. She was very weak, and very ill, but she was adamant that she wanted to have a new will made up. Her doctor was there,and he said she was of sound mind and body, and is prepared to testify to this under oath if necessary. But the notary said he didn’t need her doctor’s reassurances. He could see that even though Evelyne’s health might be failing, her mind was still sharp as a tack.”
“So why did she change her will?”
“It turns out she heard some very worrying things about you,” said David.
“Me?”
“Steph, actually.” David seemed embarrassed having to say this. “I’m simply repeating what the notary told me. Evelyne said that information had been brought to her attention that Stephanie is an unfit mother, a raging alcoholic and drug addict who neglects her daughter and is a danger to herself and others.”
Steph gasped in shock, even as Jeff took her hand and squeezed it in support.“I don’t understand,” said Steph. “She said those things about me? Jeff’s godmother?”
“She did, actually,” said David. “And when I asked where she had heard these preposterous things, the notary said a letter had arrived containing several very disturbing photographs. I took the liberty of taking a picture,” he said, and suddenly the screen changed and a picture from the same collection Steph had seen before, when sent to her by the HR person from WelBeQ, came into view. It depicted her passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of vodka in her hand, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth, and Zoe alone on the floor, playing with a dirty diaper.
She closed her eyes in horror.“This is just…”