Page 36 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

"Sierra? I want rock-solid evidence."

***

Two days later, I find the B4 unit in our dedicated analysis room. After a quick briefing with the team, we divide up the tasks. Their help and expertise will not be a luxury given the scale of the investigation.

Back at my desk, I keep digging, going through Fresh Logistics' latest activities. Ever since the drug bust, their containers have been following perfectly standard routes—no more delays, no more weight discrepancies… Everything looks spotless. Almost too spotless.

But I’m not fooled. The trafficking hasn’t stopped. I just need to figure out how they’re doing it now.

I widen my search to companies registered since the bust. The number is insane. Way too many new entities popping up out of nowhere. I narrow it down to those using the same routes as Fresh Logistics.

Nothing.

I frown. Something isn’t adding up.

Then my eyes land on the clock.

Shit. I’m late.

My parents are coming over tonight!

19. In-laws

RUSLAN

Renée and Loïc are coming over tonight.

Panic grips me. So far, keeping up appearances over phone calls had been easy, but spending an entire weekend together? That's something else entirely. How are we supposed to keep up the act?

To prepare for their visit, Sophia moves her clothes into our bedroom. My heart leaps—she's going to sleep in my bed! The thought excites me. After all, any opportunity to get closer to Sophia is worth taking, even if there's little chance she'll let me near her after the whole photo incident...

She picks a simple outfit to welcome her parents—jeans and a casual cream-colored sweater. I follow suit, opting for jeans and a rolled-up-sleeve shirt. As I change, I catch her gaze drifting from my forearms up to my chest. The longing in her eyes mirrors my own. When our eyes lock, she doesn't look away. We stare at each other for a moment before she turns and leaves the room.

I find her in the living room, gently watering the pot of bulbs. The first thick sprouts have already pierced the soil. Sophia's expression softens, and a smile tugs at her lips.

Is she remembering that morning when we first saw the tulips bloom with Renée? She had been so happy she had thrown herself into my arms.

Renée and Loïc will arrive soon and we embrace them warmly. The journey from Brest was long but went well. To allow them to rest, we eat dinner early.

Laurent has prepared all the dishes for the weekend in advance, which we only need to reheat. Tonight's menu consists of a vegetable gratin and fillet of sea bass with parsley butter. The dinner begins in a light atmosphere, but the mood suddenly changes when Renée, her face darkened with worry, explains to us:

"Isabelle, the little girl we've just taken in, doesn't speak. The doctors talk about trauma and I believe it; after all, she saw her father push her mother down the stairs."

Her voice breaks slightly.

"I admit I don't know how to help her. Every time I try to approach her, she curls up into herself."

"You'll find a way, mom," Sophia reassures her, placing her hand on her mother's. "You've always found a way to help them."

Loïc adds, conviction reinforcing each of his words:

"The very fact that she follows you everywhere you go already shows that she trusts you. That's already a huge first step."

"Why didn't you bring her with you this weekend?" I ask.

"She's visiting her maternal grandparents," Renée answers, her gaze suddenly avoiding mine. "They're unfortunately in fragile health and can't look after her, but they're deeply attached to the little one. And we've asked Tania and Émeline to watch Léa and Sasha."

She hesitates for a moment, exchanges a meaningful look with Loïc, then continues in a low voice: