Page 123 of Damaged Mogul

“We met in boarding school in Switzerland. We shared a room with four other girls, but we fast became friends. She’s a brunette to my jet-black hair. She stands three inches taller than me. I hate her for that.” She laughs.

“So, your best friend’s dad is France’s former President Laurent Rocard de Villepin. That’s wild.”

She nods.

“Since she’s half American, will she come and join you in the States?”

“No. Nads is too Parisian to ever leave Paris. Not to mention, she earned her right to stay in Paris the hard way.”

“What do you mean?”

“For years the French referred to her mom, Marciana, as a modern-day Monica Lewinsky. The French don’t tend to bat an eyelash when a husband or wife stray. Nads’s father not only lied about having sexual relationships with an intern from the French PR company that oversaw the publicity for the charitable campaign his wife chaired, but said intern was an American. Three months after the scandal broke, a whistleblower leaked she was pregnant to the French press, and then, outed him to a US newspaper for a big pay day.Le Presidentclaimed he didn’t have anysexual relations with that woman.In fact, they never crossed paths. But his penis crossed paths with Nads’s mom’s vagina.”

“Good one.”

“Marciana’s parting gift from that internship wasn’t only a stained dress soiled withle President’s semen, it was also a bun in the oven. She never left France, dead-set in her determination to forcele Presidentto acknowledge her and her baby. She found a job with an American company with an office in Paris who was willing to sponsor her work visa. That opportunity allowed her to give birth in France. Five years later, she got her French residency. It took twenty years for the former President Laurent Rocard de Villepin to acknowledge his illegitimate daughter.”

“Nadine’s mom weathered that scandal like a champ,” I say.

“She did. It took courage.”

“What does Nadine do for a living?”

“She owns a flower shop in Paris called Blue Belle—it’s a tiny shop with a pretty blue façade. It used to be calledLa Boîte Fleurit, but she changed the name when she inheritedit. She’d been working there since she was sixteen. The owner didn’t have children, and none of her nieces or nephews were interested in the business. Or the hours. Nads gets up at the crack of dawn Monday to Saturday to make it to the flower markets. Between her shop’s colorful exterior, the evocative name, and the old school jazz music playing nonstop in the background, she’s managed to create a timeless atmosphere in her shop that keeps her clients coming back. In the last year or so, since her father has recognized her as his daughter, he’s used his connections to further her business. Blue Belle is now the go-to florist for many high-ranking French politicians.”

“Good for her for making her mark instead of trying to shine in her father’s shadow.”

“I agree.”

“Does your father know?” I point to her necklace.

Her hands fly to her neck to cover it. “No, he doesn’t know I’m a jewelry designer.”

“How do you manage to keep that a secret?”

“I pay cash,” she says. “I never use up my monthly food allowance, so I squirrel away what I don’t spend. That way, I don’t leave any traces. He would disapprove of my project and belittle it.” She wrinkles her nose. “The list of cons he has for me is long enough.”

It pisses me off to hear her say that. Her idiot father should support her dreams instead of squashing them. Or worse, forcing her into a sentence of misery.

“Who’s on the pendant?”

“This is an old French coin—the one Franc. The figure is Marianne. She’s been the national personification of the French Republic since the French Revolution. She stands for liberty, equality, fraternity, and reason. She’s also the portrayal of the Goddess of Liberty?—”

“The one Statue of Liberty was modeled after Libertas—the Roman goddess of freedom.”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Again, the freedom theme—same as the song.”

“Indeed,” she says.

“How did you come up with the idea? French francs were replaced with Euros a long time ago, I can’t imagine it’s easy to find coins.”

“I found an artist in Paris who does replicas of old franc coins. I was able to strike a deal with him because I would be buying them in multiples. I figured I had plenty of time to source something on a grander scale for when the project took off.”

“Smart,” I say. “What prompted the idea?”

“Mama’s memory pushed me forward with this project.”