Chapter 11 - THE BLUE ROOMThe number changed everything.
Forty-seven.
Forty-seven children whose identities had been altered.
Forty-seven families whose lives had been shaped by deception.
And somewhere among them, people who might still believe they had been abandoned.
Camille sat beside Juliette in Thomas's office.
For the first time, they had a chance to study each other without fear of being interrupted.
Juliette had the same dark eyes.
The same small scar near her eyebrow.
Even the same habit of rubbing her thumb against her index finger when nervous.
But there were differences.
Juliette wore her hair shorter.
Her voice was slightly lower.
And when she smiled, there was a sadness Camille didn't recognize in herself.
“Did you have a good childhood?” Camille asked.
Juliette looked surprised.
Then thoughtful.
“Yes.”
Camille felt relief.
“My parents loved me.”
“Do they know?”
Juliette nodded.
“My adoptive mother died five years ago. My father is still alive.”
“Did he know you were stolen?”
“No.”
Juliette looked down.
“He believed everything was legal. When I started investigating, he was devastated.”
Camille reached for her hand.
“I'm sorry.”
Juliette shook her head.
“He didn't steal me. He raised me.”
Camille nodded.
The distinction mattered.
The people who had committed the crime were not necessarily the people who had loved the children afterward.
Juliette continued.
“My father told me something when I confronted him.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘If knowing where you came from means you need to leave me, I'll help you pack. But I hope you'll still come home for dinner.’”
Camille smiled through tears.
“He sounds wonderful.”
“He is.”
For a moment, the sisters sat quietly.
Then Juliette looked at Camille.
“What was Mom like?”
Camille felt her throat tighten.
She had imagined this question.
But now that it had arrived, she didn't know how to answer.
How could she describe thirty years of ordinary love?
The way Claire hummed while cooking.
The way she warmed Camille's hands between her palms on winter mornings.
The way she saved money for birthday presents and pretended they had cost nothing.
The way she always checked the door twice before bed.
Camille took a slow breath.
“She was stubborn.”
Juliette laughed softly.
“Like you?”
“Probably.”
“What else?”
“She loved old movies. She cried at happy endings. She hated wasting food. And she made the worst coffee in Paris.”
Juliette smiled.
Camille continued.
“She was afraid of storms, but she never admitted it. When I was little, she'd sit beside my bed and tell me stories until the thunder stopped.”
Juliette's eyes filled with tears.
“I wish I'd known her.”
Camille squeezed her hand.
“I wish you had too.”
Juliette looked down.
“Do you think she loved me?”
The question broke Camille's heart.
She reached for the letters from Locker 146.
Then handed Juliette the one addressed to Madeleine.
Protect the girls.
Camille pointed to the words.
“She never stopped looking for you.”
Juliette read the letter.
Tears fell onto the paper.
For a long time, neither spoke.
Then Thomas entered carrying a folder.
“We found the blue room.”
Both sisters looked up.
“Where?” Camille asked.
“Inside the old Saint-Antoine building. It was originally a records room painted blue.”
Juliette leaned forward.
“Does it still exist?”
“Yes. It was sealed during renovations.”
“Can we access it?”
“Investigators are obtaining the necessary authorization.”
Camille stood.
“Then we're going.”
Thomas nodded.
“This time, with police protection.”
By late afternoon, investigators had secured the hospital's former maternity wing.
Étienne Delacroix had disappeared.
His office was empty.
His phone was switched off.
His private driver claimed not to know where he had gone.
But the search continued.
Camille and Juliette entered the old building together.
The hallway smelled of disinfectant and fresh paint.
An investigator led them to a narrow staircase.
At the bottom stood a heavy wooden door.
Layers of paint covered the frame.
A small brass plate read:
Archives B.
Thomas looked at the sisters.
“Ready?”
Camille took Juliette's hand.
“Yes.”
The door opened.
Inside, the walls were faded blue.
Metal shelves lined the room.
Most were empty.
But against the far wall stood a locked cabinet.
An investigator opened it.
Inside were dozens of folders.
Birth records.
Transfer forms.
Financial documents.
Photographs.
Thomas examined the first folder.
His expression changed.
“This is extraordinary.”
Camille leaned closer.
“What?”
“Original signatures. Payment records. Internal correspondence.”
Juliette opened another folder.
A list of names.
Forty-seven entries.
Each paired with a date.
A birth mother.
A receiving family.
A payment reference.
Camille felt sick.
Then she noticed something.
One name had been circled in red.
Élise Laurent.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
Subject refused second transfer.
Camille frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas examined it.
“It suggests your mother refused to surrender another child.”
Juliette looked at Camille.
“You.”
Camille felt cold.
Claire had fought to keep her.
But another question remained.
Why had Étienne wanted both babies?
Thomas turned another page.
Then stopped.
“Look at this.”
A document listed a research project.
Neonatal Genetic Development Study.
Camille stared.
“Genetic?”
Juliette leaned closer.
“What kind of study?”
Thomas read carefully.
“Twin comparisons. Developmental outcomes. Longitudinal tracking.”
Camille felt a chill.
“They wanted to study us?”
“It appears the foundation funded research involving twins separated at birth.”
Juliette covered her mouth.
“Without consent?”
Thomas nodded grimly.
“That's what the documents suggest.”
Camille stared at the shelves.
The children had not merely been transferred.
Some had been used as subjects in a secret research program.
Lives had been divided deliberately.
Relationships destroyed.
Families deceived.
All to satisfy people who believed their scientific ambitions justified any cruelty.
Camille felt anger rising.
Then Juliette found a small envelope.
It was addressed to Lucien.
Inside was a handwritten note.
If anything happens to me, tell Élise I tried.
Below it was a signature.
Henri Vasseur.
Daniel's former superior.
Camille looked at Thomas.
“He helped cover everything up.”
Thomas nodded.
“But this suggests he may have tried to change course.”
Juliette opened another folder.
Then froze.
“Camille.”
“What?”
“There's a photograph.”
Camille moved closer.
The image showed a group of doctors standing inside a hospital room.
Étienne stood in the center.
Beside him was Henri Vasseur.
And on the far right stood a younger man.
Camille recognized him immediately.
Daniel Roche.
Her heart sank.
Thomas examined the photograph.
“This was taken in 1996.”
Camille stared at Daniel's younger face.
Then at the caption beneath the image.
Project Security Liaison.
Juliette whispered.
“He wasn't investigating them.”
May you like
Camille felt the room tilt.
“He was working for them.”
Related Stories
