His plan was to simulate a life abroad, withdraw the money gradually and finance his new family… without arousing my suspicions.
At Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle Airport, he hugged me in front of everyone.
"It's for us," he murmured.
I cried.
But no sadness.
I was crying because I already knew the truth.
When I saw him go through security, I knew he wouldn't be flying to Canada. He would exit through another door and take a taxi to the 7th arrondissement.
And that's when I made my decision.
I will not be the deceived woman who waits.
I will be the woman who acts.
When I got home, I sat in the dining room where we had made so many plans.
I called the bank.
The account was joint, but we were both account holders. Legally, I could transfer the funds. Furthermore, I had documents proving that a large portion of the capital came directly from my inheritance.
One hour.
Just one hour between naivety and determination.
I transferred the €650,000 into a personal account in my name only.
Silent.
Legal.
Irreversible.
Then I called my family's lawyer in Paris.
