Chapter 24 - Chapter 24: The Patron Unveiled

The Dubois estate's library glowed with the soft flicker of oil lamps, their light casting intricate shadows across the shelves of leather-bound books. The air was heavy with the scent of aged paper and the faint tang of Henri's pipe, though he sat silent now, his stern face etched with a mix of pride and unease. Julien stood at the center of the room, the Ministry's contract for five hundred Mark I rifles clutched in his hand, a hard-won victory from the trial's triumph. Yet, the tobacco-scented stranger's escape and the captured saboteur's words—The patron owns the Ministry—gnawed at him, a reminder that Victor Moreau was only a pawn in a larger game. The rifles were safe, but the factory, his family, and Antoine's life were still at risk, and Julien's past life's losses drove him to unravel the threat before it struck again. Antoine leaned against a bookcase, his coat rumpled from the day's chaos, his poet's grin tempered by a new edge of resolve. Claire sat near Marguerite, her auburn hair loose, her hazel eyes locked on Julien with a quiet intensity that stirred his heart, though he pushed it aside. Élise perched on a chair, her notepad open, her sharp mind already dissecting the saboteur's cryptic warning. The decoded letter, mentioning a "patron" orchestrating Moreau's moves, lay on the table, its cipher cracked but its master still hidden. Julien set the contract down, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest. "We've got the contract—five hundred rifles, first batch due in three months. Leclerc's behind us, and Roche is on the ropes. But the saboteur said the 'patron' owns the Ministry. Whoever they are, they're not done, and they're coming for the factory." Henri's fingers tightened on his chair's armrest, his voice gruff. "You've brought war to our doorstep, Julien. Spies, sabotage—this isn't what I signed up for. How do we fight an enemy we can't name?" Marguerite's hand rested on Henri's, her calm voice cutting through the tension. "We fight by trusting Julien. He's proven himself—against Moreau, against Roche. He'll find this 'patron.' But we need a plan, not just rifles." Her eyes met Julien's, warm but piercing, as if sensing the weight of his past life. Élise flipped a page in her notepad, her voice sharp. "I've been digging. The saboteur's vial— chemical oil—came from a supplier in Paris, one tied to a Ministry official named Fournier. He's high up, oversees arms contracts. And guess who he dines with? Moreau." She tapped her pencil, her eyes gleaming. "Fournier's our 'patron.' I'd bet my best dress on it." Julien's pulse quickened, Patrick Arnaud's strategic clarity from 2025 clicking into place. "Fournier," he said, his voice low. "He's got the pull to delay trials, push bribes through Roche, and cover Moreau's tracks. If he's the patron, he's after more than the factory—he wants control of the arms trade." Antoine straightened, his face grim. "My father knows Fournier. Says he's ambitious, ruthless. If he's behind this, he'll crush us to keep his monopoly. What's the move, Julien?" Julien's mind raced, his soldier's instincts blending with Arnaud's business tactics. "We expose him. The saboteur, the letter, the oil—they're evidence. We get it to Leclerc, but we need more. Fournier won't slip up unless we bait him." He turned to Élise. "You said Fournier's in Paris. Can you get a message to him—something to draw him out?" Élise's grin was pure mischief. "Oh, I can do better. I'll plant a rumor—say we're rushing a second batch of rifles, secret designs, stored in the factory. If he's the patron, he'll send his dogs to steal them. We set a trap." Claire's voice cut in, steady but laced with concern. "That's dangerous, Élise. If Fournier's as powerful as you think, he won't send spies—he'll send men with guns." Her hand brushed Julien's arm, a fleeting touch that grounded him. "Julien, are you sure about this?" Julien met her gaze, his heart torn between her safety and his mission. "We don't have a choice, Claire. Fournier's the head of the snake. We cut it off, or he crushes us." He turned to Antoine. "Get your father to set up a meeting with Leclerc—tomorrow, if possible. We'll show him the evidence and lay the trap. Élise, spread the rumor, but be subtle. No one outside this room knows." Henri stood, his voice heavy. "You're betting everything, Julien—our name, our home. If this fails, we're ruined." Marguerite rose, her presence commanding. "Then we make sure it doesn't fail. Julien's fighting for more than us—he's fighting for France. We stand with him." Her words were a balm, but her eyes held Julien's, seeing too much, as always. As the family dispersed, Julien lingered with Claire, her closeness a quiet storm in his chest. "You don't have to do this," he said softly. "Stay safe, Claire. For Antoine's sake." Her smile was fierce, her hand lingering on his. "I'm here for you, Julien. Not just Antoine. Don't you dare shut me out." Before he could respond, she kissed his cheek, a spark that burned through his defenses, and slipped out. Alone, Julien pulled the saboteur's letter from his pocket, its words a chilling promise of more to come. A faint tobacco scent drifted from the hallway, rich and sharp, like the stranger's at the trial. Fournier was closing in, but Julien's trap was set. The factory would be a battlefield, and he'd be damned if he let the patron win.