“With a document like this, Marc could attempt to act on your behalf, contact your banks, sign certain papers, move money, and take steps involving your assets. It depends on the exact limits, but from what I’m seeing… these powers are dangerously broad.”
Camille felt nausea rise in her throat.
“Can he do that while I’m in Lyon?”
“Yes. And if he is waiting for you to leave, it is probably because he needs you away, busy, and difficult to reach.”
The first decision was to cancel the trip without Marc finding out. The second was to pretend. Pretend to pack. Pretend to answer his smiles. Pretend to remain the wife who suspected nothing. But the next day, when Camille opened the mailbox, she found a white envelope with no visible sender. Only one stamp sat in the corner: Notary Office — Nanterre. She carried it back into the kitchen as if it were burning her fingers. Inside was a copy of a notarial deed currently being registered.
