Read Chapter 16: SOLÈNE’S VERSION

Solène came to Élise’s studio two nights later.

She closed the door behind her.

“Lucien is meeting Pauline Sorel tomorrow,” she said.

Élise did not look up from sanding resin. “You keep excellent surveillance.”

“He asked me for her private number.”

“And you gave it?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To stop you from destroying the only network at this school that has ever helped students more efficiently than the administration.”

Élise set down the sandpaper.

“By fixing prizes?”

“By making visible what everyone else hides.”

“Orphée hides itself.”

“From outsiders. Not from members.”

“I’m not a member.”

“Because Maxime blocked the vote.”

Élise stared.

Solène crossed her arms. “Lucien nominated you for full membership after the Necker result. I supported it. Maxime said you were too unstable before Delaroche.”

“And you accepted that?”

“I lost the vote.”

“That is supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. It is supposed to make you understand that Orphée is not Maxime.”

Solène walked around Service Entrance, studying the work.

“My mother grew up wealthy,” she said. “Do you know what she taught me first about the art world?”

“That taste is hereditary?”

“That nobody admits to choosing people. They choose schools, galleries, accents, references, dinner tables, and then pretend the people emerged naturally.”

Élise said nothing.

“Orphée did not invent that,” Solène continued. “It simply stopped pretending.”

“And then reproduced it more efficiently.”

“Sometimes. Sometimes we got a brilliant student in front of someone who would never have looked at them.”

“Like me?”

“Yes.”

“You invited me because I was useful optics.”

“At first? Partly.” Solène’s honesty was brutal. “Then because you were good.”

Élise almost respected her for it.

“Why protect Maxime?”

“I’m not protecting Maxime. I’m protecting infrastructure.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you expose the archive, the school will shut Orphée down publicly and preserve every donor relationship privately. Students lose the information network; the director keeps the patrons. Congratulations, you will have made power less visible.”

That was the same argument Lucien had made, but Solène delivered it without romance to soften the edges.

“So what do you propose?” Élise asked.

“Remove Maxime. Rewrite the rules. Publish conflict disclosures for internal endorsements. Open selected salons to competitive application. Stop coordinating prize support.”

Élise blinked. “You’ve planned this.”

“For two years.”

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“Because Maxime controls the alumni list and half the older members think transparency is vulgar.”

“Then why tell me?”

Solène looked at her installation.

“Because you are going to do something reckless, and I would prefer to weaponize it intelligently.”

Élise laughed.

There it was: mutual use, perfectly stated.

“What do you need?”

“Maxime’s resignation from Orphée before the Delaroche final. Quietly. If he refuses, we call a full membership vote and use the Sorel interference.”

“Hugo won’t release the recording.”

“We may not need it.”

“Lucien is trying to get Sorel to confirm.”

“Yes.”

“And if she refuses?”

Solène’s eyes were cold. “Then I have something else.”

She removed a folded photocopy from her bag.

It was an email from Maxime to Pauline Sorel.

Subject: Delaroche balance.

The text did not explicitly demand a score change. It referred to “reconsidering candidates whose external context may create reputational complications” and suggested that Élise’s inclusion would “demonstrate the jury’s independence from legacy expectations.”

Élise read it twice.

“He used me as proof the jury was independent while interfering with it.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get this?”

“Do not ask questions that make answers less useful.”

Élise handed it back.

“No.”

Solène frowned.

“If we remove Maxime privately, the school learns nothing,” Élise said. “The next Maxime will be smarter.”

“And if you expose everything, the school will sacrifice students and protect adults.”

“Then we need a third option.”

Solène smiled faintly.

“Now you sound like Lucien.”

Élise hated how pleased that made her.