Chapter 3 - THE GIRL WHO NEVER EXISTED
“THERE WAS ANOTHER BABY?”
Léa heard the question leave her mouth, but she barely recognized her own voice.
Camille stood beside the desk, holding the tiny note beneath the lamp.
Raphaël looked stunned.
“I don't understand.”
Adrien took the paper and examined it.
“Are you sure that's Elise's handwriting?”
Léa nodded.
“My mother wrote shopping lists in that handwriting. She wrote birthday cards. She wrote notes and left them on the refrigerator when she went to work early.”
Her throat tightened.
“I'd recognize it anywhere.”
Camille watched her carefully.
“I didn't know who Elise was when I found the locket. I asked my mother, and she told me the photograph belonged to a former employee who had tried to blackmail the family.”
Léa looked toward the door.
“Your mother seems to have a convenient explanation for everything.”
Camille's expression darkened.
“I know.”
For the first time, Léa noticed that Camille did not seem shocked by the accusation.
She seemed exhausted.
As though she had spent years trying to reconcile the mother she loved with the woman she feared.
Raphaël approached the desk.
“Camille, why didn't you show me this?”
“Because every time I asked you about Elise Martin, you shut down.”
He had no answer.
Camille continued.
“When I was seventeen, I found an old newspaper clipping about an art restoration scandal. Elise was accused of stealing valuable museum documents. Her photograph was in the article.”
Léa stared at her.
“My mother was never convicted of stealing anything.”
“I know that now.”
“She lost her job because of those accusations. We nearly lost our apartment.”
Camille lowered her eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
Léa looked at her half sister.
The apology was quiet and sincere.
And for the first time that evening, Léa felt that someone inside the mansion might genuinely understand what had been taken from her.
Raphaël picked up the note.
“The girl they hid in the hospital,” he repeated.
Adrien frowned.
“Could it refer to Léa?”
“No,” Léa replied. “My mother never hid me. She registered my birth, enrolled me in school, and raised me openly.”
Raphaël looked toward the window.
“Unless Elise was referring to someone else.”
A sudden knock interrupted them.
Thomas entered.
“Sir, we've recovered part of the security footage.”
Raphaël straightened.
“Did you identify the intruder?”
“Not yet. But we found something unusual.”
Thomas placed a tablet on the desk.
The recording showed a corridor outside Raphaël's office.
At 9:14 p.m., the lights flickered.
At 9:15, the camera image froze.
Six minutes later, the recording resumed.
A woman in a dark coat appeared at the far end of the hallway.
Her face was concealed by a wide-brimmed hat.
She moved quickly toward the servants' staircase.
Thomas paused the video.
“Look at her right hand.”
The woman was carrying a small black leather case.
Raphaël frowned.
“That belonged to Elise.”
Léa turned toward him.
“What?”
“Elise used that case to transport fragile documents and restoration tools.”
Léa stared at the screen.
She remembered the case.
Her mother had kept it beneath her bed for years.
After Elise's death, Léa had searched the apartment for it but never found it.
“Why was it in your safe?”
Raphaël looked troubled.
“It wasn't.”
Adrien leaned forward.
“Then whoever entered the office brought it with them.”
The realization settled over the room.
Someone had entered Raphaël's private office carrying an object that had belonged to Elise Martin.
Someone who knew the estate well enough to avoid the guards.
And someone who wanted them to believe the past was returning.
Camille suddenly stepped back.
“I know that coat.”
Everyone turned.
“What?” Raphaël asked.
Camille pointed toward the screen.
“The silver clasp on the collar. I've seen it before.”
“Where?”
“In my mother's dressing room.”
Adrien shook his head.
“Camille, don't jump to conclusions.”
“I'm not saying it was her. I'm saying I've seen the coat.”
Thomas enlarged the image.
The clasp was visible, shaped like a small silver bird.
Raphaël stared at it.
Then he whispered:
“A swallow.”
Léa looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Elise loved swallows. She used to say they always found their way home.”
Léa felt tears sting her eyes.
Her mother had told her the same thing.
When Léa was little, Elise would point toward the birds gathering above the rooftops.
“No matter how far they fly, sweetheart, they remember where they belong.”
For a moment, the mansion disappeared.
Léa was standing beside her mother again, holding her hand on a sunny Paris sidewalk.
Then Thomas spoke.
“There's one more thing.”
He opened a second file.
“This was delivered to the security office fifteen minutes ago.”
It was a photograph.
A hospital nursery.
Several newborn babies lay in small white bassinets.
On the back was a date.
April 17, 1997.
Léa's birthday.
Raphaël reached for the photograph.
His hands began to shake.
“Where did this come from?”
Thomas shook his head.
“An anonymous courier.”
Léa studied the image.
Two bassinets stood side by side.
One contained a baby wrapped in a pale pink blanket.
The other held a baby wrapped in blue.
A handwritten label was attached to each.
The first read:
MARTIN, LÉA.
The second read:
MARTIN, JULIETTE.
Léa stared at the names.
Her breath stopped.
“No.”
She looked at Raphaël.
“No, that isn't possible.”
Camille touched her arm.
“Léa?”
But Léa could barely hear her.
Because the photograph suggested something that overturned everything she believed about her birth.
She had not been born alone.
May you like
And beneath the photograph, someone had written three words in red ink.
“YOUR TWIN SURVIVED.”
