Champagne Problems

T W E N T Y

"What do you mean someone murdered your dad?" Daphné asks, her voice trembling with shock. It was unthinkable—Mr. Grimaldi was loved by everyone in Monaco. He was admired, respected, and no one had ever spoken ill of him. The very idea that someone could harm him seemed impossible.

Vincent's face is pale, his eyes bloodshot from crying. He wipes at his face, looking exhausted. "Someone drove into his car, forced him off the road, and his car went over the cliff," he says, barely able to keep his voice steady.

Daphné feels her stomach twist, trying to process the words. "It could've been an accident, right? A horrible accident... it doesn't necessarily mean it was intentional. Who would do something like that to your dad?" She places a comforting hand on Vincent's shoulder, trying to hold onto some hope, trying to calm him.

Vincent's jaw tightens, and he looks at her with grief and anger in his eyes. "The driver took off immediately. If it was an accident, they would have stopped. But they didn't. They left him there." His voice cracks with frustration and pain.

Daphné pulls Vincent into a tight hug, kissing him softly on the cheek. "I'm so sorry, Vincent. I'm so, so sorry," she whispers, feeling the weight of his loss as if it were her own. His arms wrap around her waist, clinging to her like he's holding on to the last piece of stability in his life.

Monsieur Arnault steps toward them, his voice softer than usual. "Daphné, Vincent, come inside," he says, his tone gentle but commanding. Daphné squeezes Vincent's hand and nods, leading him inside.

As they step into the grand room, they are met with an overwhelming scene of grief. Evian stands in the middle of the room, trembling with rage. His mother, Madame Grimaldi, sits at the long dining table, staring blankly at her untouched plate. The weight of her loss is etched deeply into her face, her hands trembling as she holds them in her lap.

"HE'S GONE, MOTHER! HE'S NOT COMING BACK!" Evian suddenly shouts, his voice filled with agony. In his anger, he swipes the dishes off the table, sending them crashing against the antique cabinet. The sound of shattering porcelain echoes through the room.

"Evian..." Madame Grimaldi sighs, her voice weak, almost broken. She doesn't look up, her gaze fixed on the chaos in front of her, as if she can't bear to face her son's outburst.

Monsieur Arnault approaches Madame Grimaldi carefully, offering his condolences. "On behalf of the Arnault family, we offer our deepest sympathy," he says, placing a hand over his chest. His wife, standing beside him, nods in agreement. "It is absolutely dreadful what happened to your husband," Madame Arnault adds, her voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and formal distance.

Daphné's attention drifts toward the stairs, where she sees Evian storm off with Chantal following him. "Let's go upstairs," Vincent suggests, tugging her gently. Together, they head to Evian's room.

Inside, the atmosphere is thick with tension. The curtains are drawn, and a haze of smoke hangs in the air. Remy, Chantal, and Benoit sit on Evian's bed, passing around a joint. "Seriously, Evian?" Vincent asks, his frustration bubbling up as he sees his brother lighting the joint.

Evian blows out a cloud of smoke, shrugging. "What? I need this right now. We all do," he mutters, holding the joint out to Vincent. "Come on, it'll take the edge off."

Vincent hesitates, but eventually, with a sigh, he takes the joint and inhales deeply. "You know you might be king now, right? And this is how you're handling it?" Vincent says, but there's no anger in his voice now, only a kind of resigned acceptance.

Evian chuckles darkly, exhaling smoke. "Yeah, well, I'm not king yet. And even if I am... I need this. I can't think about Dad right now."

The room falls into a heavy silence as the joint makes its way around. They are all lost in their thoughts, the gravity of the situation pressing down on them.