The Price of Deception by Vicki Hopkins Page B

Europe. Everything ran smoothly,
until a monsoon had destroyed one of their ships and the entire
cargo sank to the bottom of the ocean.
    The tragedy resulted in extra expenses and a damaged
reputation. Their insurance failed to cover all the losses, so they
made restitution to their customers from business profits. Accounts
cancelled one by one, as others yielded to superstitious nonsense
that they would share in their string of terrible luck. The recent
news of Duval’s terminal illness added to the stigma that Duval
& Moreau Shipping had fallen under a curse.
    As the orders dwindled, they were forced to lay off
crew members and sell the second ship in the fleet of three.
Philippe could barely keep things afloat with one vessel
transporting goods.
    When he returned to his desk, he sat down and picked
up the ledger once more. The stark reality of his situation made
him feel like his business would be lost in the depths of the
ocean. He’d be going down with the ship and forced to declare
bankruptcy to avoid the creditors that demanded payment.
    His personal assets were in jeopardy. He had
purchased a home far too expensive for his earnings in order to
give Suzette the best in life. As a result, he now reaped the
consequences of his foolish spending during times of profit.
    If matters didn’t change soon, he’d have to sell
their home and live less expensively. The servants would be let go,
as well as the governess. The household and rearing of their
children would need to be solely upon Suzette’s shoulders, while
Philippe found work elsewhere. No other choice remained.
    Only one last desperate chance to salvage the company
existed—find an investor. With their recent failures, it would be a
monumental task to attract a wealthy infusion into a dying venture;
but he could think of no other course to survive.
    “Excuse me, Monsieur, but a courier has brought you a
note.” Philippe’s clerk, Roland, entered and handed him an
envelope, which he immediately tore open. Word from Jacque’s family
had arrived. Last rights had been administered, and if he wished to
say his goodbyes, he had to come now.
    “Watch the office,” he ordered, as he stood to his
feet. “I’m afraid this is it. Monsieur Duval is very grave. I must
attend him.”
    “I’m very sorry to hear, that sir. Please, I beg you,
give my condolences to his family.”
    “Of course,” Philippe replied. He took his top hat
and headed for the door.
    Philippe left and hired a cab that soon brought him
to the Duval residence. He worried about Mrs. Duval and their
ten-year-old daughter. When Jacques passed, there would be little
left for each of them, since his estate would pass to a nephew.
    “Oh, Philippe, you’ve come.” Grace Duval took
Philippe by the hand and led him to her husband’s room. “The priest
has given his last rights, it won’t be long now.” Tears streamed
down her face.
    “I shouldn’t be here. This time belongs to your
family to be at his side.” Philippe felt like an intruder upon an
intensely private moment of final goodbyes, but Grace insisted.
    He entered the chamber and saw Jacques’s face white
as a sheet. His partner took short, shallow breaths with great
difficulty. Jacques looked semi-conscious but then stirred.
Philippe warily walked to his bedside.
    “I’m here, Jacques,” he whispered. He touched his
hand but swiftly pulled it away after feeling his cold flesh.
Philippe, painfully aware only moments remained, nervously fiddled
with the rim of his hat between his fingers.
    Jacques opened his eyes and shook his head,
acknowledging Philippe’s presence. “Take care of them . . .” he
begged in a raspy voice. Philippe knew exactly what he meant.
    “Of course, Jacques, be at peace. I shall watch over
your family with ardent care.” He nodded a few times and then
closed his eyes. Philippe turned to see his wife standing in the
doorway crying, with her daughter by her side.
    “Please,” he pleaded, “these last