Chapter 13 - THE CHOICE NO MOTHER SHOULD MAKEFor a long moment, Camille couldn't speak.
Juliette stood beside her, equally motionless.
Vasseur looked down at his hands.
“Your mother was given an impossible choice.”
Camille's voice shook.
“Explain.”
The old man took a slow breath.
“After Lucien discovered the illegal transfers, Étienne ordered his associates to silence him. Lucien was attacked and left for dead.”
Juliette covered her mouth.
“Where?”
“At the warehouse near the river.”
Camille remembered Daniel's account.
The blood on the floor.
The vanished evidence.
The official disappearance.
Vasseur continued.
“Élise learned where Lucien had been taken. She begged Étienne to let him live.”
Camille stared.
“And he demanded one of us?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the research program required twins separated at birth. Étienne believed the study could make him famous.”
Juliette looked sick.
“So we were an experiment.”
Vasseur lowered his eyes.
“You were children. Human beings. But he treated you as data.”
Camille felt anger rise.
“And my mother agreed?”
Vasseur looked at her.
“She refused at first.”
“Then what happened?”
“He threatened to kill Lucien and both babies.”
Juliette stepped backward.
Camille reached for her hand.
Vasseur continued.
“Élise believed surrendering one child was the only way to keep all four of you alive.”
Camille closed her eyes.
For thirty years, she had imagined her mother as a woman who knew how to solve every problem.
Claire had always found a way to pay the bills.
A way to make dinner when the refrigerator was nearly empty.
A way to comfort Camille after heartbreak.
Now Camille understood that her mother had once faced a choice no human being should ever be forced to make.
And no matter what she chose, someone would suffer.
Juliette began crying.
“She gave me away.”
Camille turned toward her.
“No.”
Juliette shook her head.
“She did.”
Camille held her hand tighter.
“She was forced.”
Juliette looked at her.
“That doesn't change what happened to me.”
Camille fell silent.
Her sister was right.
Understanding the circumstances did not erase the loss.
Juliette had grown up loved by another family.
But she had still been deprived of the truth.
And Claire had spent thirty years grieving a living daughter.
Vasseur looked at Juliette.
“Your mother never stopped trying to find you.”
Juliette wiped her eyes.
“How do you know?”
“Because she contacted me repeatedly.”
Camille stared.
“You knew where she was?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you help her?”
“Not enough.”
Juliette's expression hardened.
“Did you ever tell her where I lived?”
Vasseur shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid Étienne would kill you if she tried to take you back.”
Juliette looked away.
The room fell silent.
Then Camille asked another question.
“What happened to my father after the attack?”
Vasseur looked exhausted.
“He was moved between facilities under false identities. Étienne wanted him alive.”
Camille frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Lucien knew where the original evidence was hidden.”
“The blue room?”
“No.”
Camille froze.
“Then where?”
Vasseur looked at Thomas.
“There was another archive.”
Thomas leaned forward.
“What archive?”
“A private repository containing correspondence, financial transfers, and research reports.”
“Where is it?”
Vasseur shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Camille stared.
“Then how do we find it?”
Vasseur looked at her.
“Lucien knew.”
“He's dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then the secret died with him.”
Vasseur hesitated.
“Not necessarily.”
Juliette looked up.
“What does that mean?”
The old man studied her.
“Did he leave you anything?”
Juliette reached into her bag.
The folded letter.
My girls. I looked for you in every dream. You were never forgotten.
Vasseur stared at it.
Then his expression changed.
“Turn it over.”
Juliette did.
The back appeared blank.
Vasseur shook his head.
“Hold it toward the light.”
Juliette raised the paper.
A faint watermark emerged.
Three letters.
A number.
A symbol.
Thomas examined it.
“It's a reference code.”
Vasseur nodded.
“Lucien used to mark his research files with codes.”
Camille leaned closer.
“What does it say?”
Thomas read aloud.
“L.M. 47.”
Juliette looked at Camille.
“Forty-seven children.”
Camille nodded.
“And L.M. for Lucien Moreau.”
Vasseur's expression darkened.
“No.”
Both sisters turned.
“What?”
The old man swallowed.
“L.M. wasn't his name.”
Camille stared.
“Then what?”
Vasseur looked toward the door.
“It's the name of the person who helped him hide the evidence.”
“Who?”
Vasseur's voice dropped.
“Laurent Madeleine.”
Camille felt cold.
“Aunt Madeleine?”
Vasseur nodded.
“She kept the final archive.”
Thomas stood.
“We need to contact her immediately.”
He took out his phone.
Dialed.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Camille felt dread rising.
Then a message arrived on Thomas's phone.
A photograph.
Madeleine sitting in a chair.
Her hands bound.
Behind her stood Étienne Delacroix.
May you like
Beneath the image were five words.
“Bring me the sisters. Alone.”
