The front door opened with a soft click.

"After you." I stepped aside, letting Lou be the first to enter my house.

Ollie, my dad's architect, designed it for me, and the guy did a great job. I didn't request many extras — only a terrace and a small garden. My home wasn't the biggest, but there was enough space not to feel suffocated.

"Wow. It looks cozy. I wouldn't tell a single guy lives here." Louise's eyes traveled around the living room where a sectional sofa sat opposite a traditional open-hearth fireplace.

"I'm not single anymore." I pecked Lou's cheek. "Besides, I didn't want a typical bachelor pad."

Lou laughed. "You're quite a catch, Thierry. I don't know how on earth you haven't got married until now. Unless there's an ex-wife I know nothing about, of course."

"Don't you think I would tell you?" I winked, grabbing hold of Louise's hand and leading her further into the house.

"Now, this is my sanctuary."

"Holy cow! Definitely not a bachelor pad," said Louise.

The island kitchen, indeed, was the highlight of my home. I spent more money on kitchenware and gadgets than I did on many other things in other rooms.

"So, you may take a seat, and I am going to woo you with my coffee-making skills."

Lou grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

Making herself comfortable on one of the stools at the island, she placed her elbows on the marble counter and got ready to watch.

I decided on pour-over coffee. The preparation was challenging, but, if done right, the taste would be worth the trouble.

Louise's eyes didn't stray from my hands and me. I, on the contrary, focused solely on the drink, trying to order my thoughts. Once I'd finished brewing the java, I would have to spill the beans — unfortunately for me, not the coffee ones.

"Ready." I placed the cup on a platter and handed it to my girlfriend. "Wait for me here. I need to get something."

"Okay." Lou smelled the drink and took the cup between her palms.

Hurriedly, I made my way to my study. Inserting a small key in the lock of the drawer, I opened it and retrieved the thing I needed.

In barely a couple of minutes, it lay on the kitchen island between Louise and me.

"What is it?" She left her drink on the marbled surface and ran her hand along the tattered edges of the folder.

I twirled my cup in my hands. "I'll let you see it when I'm done talking."

Lou nodded. "Okay. Before you do, please know that I'm not going to judge. I've seen a lot of messed up situations. Whatever you say is safe with me."

Taking a sip of the coffee, I nodded. "Alright. So, when I was sixteen, my mother's boyfriend raped me."

Louise's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

"It happened several times, right under my mother's nose. I'm not going to describe everything in detail. I'll just say that I was lanky and weak, a typical teenager who had yet to discover the importance of the exercise."

Lou covered my hand with hers.

"I couldn't fight him," I went on, "and before that happened, I hadn't been in any kind of intimate relationship. I was going out with a girl, but when that happened to me, I broke it off. For a long time, I couldn't entertain a thought about being physically close to someone."

"What about now?" asked Lou. "Do you still struggle with that?"

I shook my head. "No. I know that we haven't done much apart from kissing. It's because I wanted to tell you everything before taking the next step. So, after that happened, I came back to my dad's house. Then, I started to work for Jean at his bistro and got into the culinary academy. You already know that."

"Yeah." Louise sighed. "I guessed there was more to the story than you being a rebellious teen who wasted his father's money on booze."

"You could say so. Jean helped me a lot. He and Claude are the only people who know, apart from Leo, my therapist, and now you."

Frowning, Lou took a sip of her now lukewarm coffee. "What about your parents?"

I rubbed the back of her hand with my thumb.

"My mother didn't believe me," I said. "She was smitten with the guy who took her on vacations and gave her the attention my dad didn't. Now I get my father, Lou. Having your own business is a lot of hard work. You don't have a schedule, and lots of people depend on you. 

"Victor Fauber wasn't and isn't the kind of dad to neglect his child. We went on family trips, and he took an interest in my life, but his company was also important to him because it allowed us to have the lifestyle we had. When my mother cheated on my dad and left, it was a low blow. He still loved her, flaws and all."

Lou studied her nails. "Does your dad know?"

"No." I sighed. "One of the reasons why he doesn't is in here." I tapped the worn cover of the folder and slid it closer to Louise.

After a moment of hesitation, Lou opened it. A myriad of emotions flickered across her face as she turned the pages full of newspaper clippings and pictures. Many of them were yellowish and of bad quality. On some days, I felt ashamed to have started this compulsive habit of gathering the information on the guy who ruined me.

"So," Louise cleared her throat, "this guy—"

"Is a councilor of one of the districts in Paris, a big shot. Indirectly, he could harm my dad and his business if I were to report him. That's one of the reasons why I didn't do it."

Lou bit her lip. "What about the woman next to him?"

"My mother."

"Oh, God. So, they've been together all these years despite what he did to you?"

I nodded.

"She's the worst." Louise's voice trembled. Afterward, she took her time to study the pages again, as if she were looking for some missing clues.

"There's something I don't get," she finally said. "Why have you collected all these? The pain must be excruciating. Seeing that bastard's face as he parades around the city and attends events—"

"Exactly, Lou. Events."

When my now girlfriend got the meaning behind what I meant, she covered her mouth with her hands.

"Many of those have something to do with children, Louise. And as much as I wish to be wrong—"

"You think that you might not be the only victim."

My grip on the now empty coffee cup tightened, just like the knot in my stomach. "Yes. And if I'm right, and I am one of many, it's only a matter of time until someone speaks — someone who isn't a coward like me."

A/N

Did anyone suspect this?