Chapter 2 - THE SECRET BEHIND THE LOCKED DOOR
“WHAT DOES THAT MESSAGE MEAN? WHO IS THE SECOND DAUGHTER?”
Léa's question echoed through the garden, but no one answered.
Raphaël stood staring at Thomas, the security guard, as though the young man had just announced that a ghost had returned from the dead.
Adrien was the first to move.
“Father, we need to get everyone out of the house.”
“No,” Catherine said sharply. “We are not evacuating three hundred guests because someone left a ridiculous message.”
Léa turned toward her.
“A ridiculous message? Someone broke into your husband's office and threatened a woman's life.”
Catherine's gaze settled on Léa.
“Perhaps you should consider how much trouble your arrival has caused.”
Raphaël's voice thundered.
“Enough, Catherine!”
His wife went silent.
For a moment, Léa saw something beneath the elegant woman's composure. It was not fear of the intruder.
It was fear of what the intruder might have discovered.
Raphaël ordered Thomas to secure the property and preserve the security recordings. Then he turned toward Léa.
“Come with me.”
She did not move.
“Why should I trust you?”
The question visibly wounded him.
“You shouldn't,” he admitted. “Not yet. But I can show you what your mother left with me.”
Léa studied his face.
She had spent her childhood imagining what her father might look like. Sometimes she pictured a kind man who had lost her address. Other times, she imagined someone who had died before she was born.
She had never imagined that meeting him would make her feel more alone.
Finally, she nodded.
“But Adrien comes with us.”
Adrien looked surprised.
“Why me?”
“Because you're the only person here who seems willing to say what everyone else is hiding.”
Raphaël said nothing.
They crossed the ballroom together.
Guests moved aside as the billionaire passed. Conversations faded. Curious eyes followed Léa, and she heard whispers about the unknown young woman who had disrupted the birthday celebration.
Near the staircase, an elderly gentleman approached Raphaël.
“Is everything all right?”
“Family business, Henri.”
The man glanced at Léa.
His expression changed.
“Elise?”
Léa stopped.
“What did you call me?”
The gentleman blinked.
“My apologies. You reminded me of someone.”
“Someone named Elise?”
Raphaël gently touched her shoulder.
“Léa, we need to go.”
She pulled away.
“Stop deciding when I can ask questions.”
The old man lowered his eyes.
“My name is Henri Beaumont. I was your father's attorney for many years.”
Léa stared at him.
“Then perhaps you can explain why my mother was erased from this family.”
Henri looked toward Catherine, who stood near the ballroom entrance.
His voice dropped.
“Some things were done in those days that should never have been permitted.”
Before Léa could question him further, Raphaël guided them upstairs.
His office occupied the eastern wing of the mansion. Dark wood shelves lined the walls, and a massive painting of the Delcourt family hung above the fireplace.
Léa recognized Raphaël, Catherine, and Adrien.
There was also a younger woman with dark hair and gray eyes.
“Who's that?”
Raphaël followed her gaze.
“My daughter, Camille.”
Léa stared at the portrait.
“Your other daughter?”
“Yes. She's twenty-five.”
The words struck unexpectedly hard.
Twenty-five.
For twenty-five years, another girl had grown up with the father Léa had never known.
She had celebrated birthdays in this mansion. She had received presents from him, perhaps learned to ride a bicycle while he watched, perhaps cried in his arms after her first heartbreak.
Léa hated herself for the sudden jealousy.
Camille had done nothing wrong.
Yet Léa could not stop imagining the childhood that might have been hers.
Raphaël noticed her expression.
“I know what you're thinking.”
“No,” she replied quietly. “You don't.”
He accepted the correction.
Behind his desk, a painting hung crookedly. Thomas had already photographed the disturbed safe and the surrounding area.
The steel door stood open.
Inside were several empty compartments.
Raphaël inspected them carefully.
“The documents are gone.”
“What documents?” Léa asked.
“Letters. Photographs. Financial records from the year you were born.”
“And you kept them here all this time?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Raphaël sat heavily in his chair.
“Because I was ashamed of what I had done, but too cowardly to destroy the evidence.”
Léa waited.
Raphaël looked at the photograph of her mother still in his hand.
“I met Elise thirty years ago at a charity exhibition in Paris. She was an assistant conservator at a museum. I was already married to Catherine, and Adrien was a small child.”
Léa felt her stomach tighten.
“You were married?”
“Yes.”
She looked away.
Her mother had always described love as something that should make people braver and kinder.
Now Léa was learning that her own birth had begun in a betrayal.
Raphaël continued.
“Elise didn't know I was married when we first met. I told her I was separated. It wasn't true.”
Léa closed her eyes.
“You lied to her.”
“Yes.”
“And when she became pregnant?”
“I promised I would leave my marriage.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
The admission hung between them.
“I loved her,” Raphaël whispered.
Léa turned back sharply.
“Love isn't what you say when everything is easy. Love is what you do when telling the truth costs you something.”
Raphaël looked down.
“My father threatened to remove me from the company. Catherine threatened to expose Elise publicly. I convinced myself that staying away would protect you both.”
“And my mother?”
“She refused to let me give you a life built on lies.”
Léa felt tears gathering again.
That sounded like Elise.
Stubborn.
Proud.
Determined to protect her daughter even when the world was cruel.
Adrien moved toward the open safe.
“Father, what exactly was stolen?”
Raphaël hesitated.
“A sealed envelope Elise sent me shortly before she died.”
Adrien frowned.
“You said you never received her letter.”
“I never received the letter she sent three days before her death. This envelope was different. She gave it to Henri years earlier, with instructions to deliver it to me only if something happened to her.”
Léa's heart pounded.
“What did it contain?”
“I never opened it.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because Henri told me Elise had left instructions that it should be opened in your presence.”
“And you waited seven years?”
Raphaël's silence was answer enough.
Léa turned away in disgust.
Suddenly, the office door opened.
A young woman stood in the doorway.
She wore a dark green evening dress, and her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders.
It was Camille Delcourt.
She looked at Léa.
Then at her father.
“I heard what happened downstairs.”
Raphaël rose.
“Camille, this is not the right—”
“Please don't lie to me, Dad.”
Camille entered the room.
She looked directly at Léa.
“I know who you are.”
Léa's pulse quickened.
“How?”
Camille reached into her handbag and removed a small silver locket.
Inside was a faded photograph of Elise holding a newborn baby.
“I found this in my mother's jewelry box when I was sixteen.”
Raphaël stared at the locket.
“Camille, where did you get that?”
She ignored him.
“For nine years, I've been trying to understand why my mother kept a photograph of a woman she claimed to hate.”
Léa looked at the picture.
It was her mother.
And the baby was unmistakably her.
Camille's eyes filled with tears.
“There's something else.”
She opened the other side of the locket.
Inside was a tiny folded piece of paper.
Léa leaned closer.
Camille unfolded it carefully.
The handwriting was Elise's.
Léa recognized it immediately.
May you like
The message contained only one sentence.
“IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME, FIND THE GIRL THEY HID IN THE HOSPITAL.”
