Chapter 3 - THE FOUNDATION OF LIESThe Delacroix Foundation occupied a limestone building overlooking the Seine.
Its entrance was framed by polished brass doors, and a discreet plaque announced its mission.
Advancing Medical Science. Protecting Human Life.
Camille stood across the street, reading those words with growing disgust.
If the documents in Locker 146 were genuine, someone connected to this organization had helped steal a newborn child.
Now her twin sister had disappeared inside the same institution.
Geneviève stood beside her.
“We shouldn't go in without help.”
Camille nodded.
“I know.”
She had already contacted a lawyer.
His name was Thomas Mercier.
Forty-two years old, formerly an investigative prosecutor, he now specialized in medical negligence and institutional corruption.
Camille had found his name among several newspaper articles about hospital record falsification.
He arrived twenty minutes later carrying a leather briefcase.
After examining the hospital record and photographs, he looked at Camille.
“Where did you get these?”
“My mother left them for me.”
“Is she alive?”
“No.”
“I'm sorry.”
Camille watched his expression.
He was studying the documents carefully.
Not with disbelief.
With recognition.
“You've seen something like this before,” she said.
Thomas looked up.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Altered birth records. Unexplained neonatal transfers. Children recorded as deceased despite incomplete death documentation.”
Geneviève gripped her handbag.
“Where?”
“Several private clinics operating in France during the 1990s.”
Camille felt cold.
“Were they connected to Delacroix?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Some received funding from companies associated with him.”
“Then you know what happened.”
“I know there were allegations. Most were dismissed for lack of evidence.”
“Why?”
“Because the people making the allegations couldn't produce the original records.”
Camille looked down at the folder in her hands.
“And now I can.”
“Possibly.”
Thomas's caution frustrated her.
“Why aren't you more excited?”
“Because documents can be challenged. Witnesses can disappear. And powerful institutions know how to turn a desperate family into an unreliable source.”
Camille understood the warning.
She also understood that Thomas was trying to protect her from expectations that could destroy her if the case failed.
“What do we do?”
“First, we establish whether your sister entered the building. Then we preserve every document you have.”
He pointed toward the foundation.
“Do not confront Delacroix directly.”
Camille nodded.
But she had already made a decision.
She would not leave without learning what happened to Juliette.
Inside, the foundation's lobby resembled an expensive hotel.
White marble floors.
Glass walls.
Fresh flowers.
A receptionist greeted them with a professional smile.
“Good afternoon. How may I help you?”
Thomas presented his identification.
“Thomas Mercier. I'm representing a family seeking information about a missing woman.”
The receptionist's smile faded slightly.
“What woman?”
“Juliette Armand.”
For one brief moment, her eyes moved toward a security camera.
Camille noticed.
“You recognize the name.”
The receptionist recovered quickly.
“I would need to check our visitor records.”
“Please do,” Thomas said.
The woman typed something.
Then stopped.
“I'm sorry. We have no record of anyone by that name.”
Camille placed the photograph on the counter.
“This woman entered your elevator yesterday.”
The receptionist glanced at it.
“I can't verify when or where that photograph was taken.”
Thomas leaned forward.
“Then please preserve your security footage from yesterday between two and five in the afternoon. I'll be requesting it through the appropriate legal process.”
A voice came from behind them.
“That won't be necessary.”
Camille turned.
A silver-haired man stood near the elevators.
He wore a charcoal suit and carried himself with the calm confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
Étienne Delacroix.
Older than in the photograph.
But unmistakable.
His gaze moved from Thomas to Geneviève.
Then to Camille.
For a fraction of a second, his expression changed.
Surprise.
Then recognition.
Then something colder.
“Geneviève,” he said.
Her grandmother stiffened.
“Étienne.”
He approached slowly.
“It's been a very long time.”
“Not long enough.”
He ignored the remark.
His eyes remained fixed on Camille.
“And who is this?”
Camille met his gaze.
“Camille Martin.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
“Martin?”
“My mother's name was Claire Martin.”
Silence.
Then Étienne smiled.
“A common name.”
“She was born Élise Laurent.”
His smile vanished.
Thomas stepped forward.
“Mr. Delacroix, we're here concerning Juliette Armand.”
Étienne looked at him.
“I know who you are, Monsieur Mercier.”
“Then you know I expect cooperation.”
“I cooperate with lawful inquiries.”
Camille took out the photograph of Juliette.
“Where is she?”
Étienne barely glanced at it.
“I have no idea.”
“She came here yesterday.”
“Many people visit this building.”
“Not all of them disappear.”
Étienne's expression hardened.
“You should be careful about making accusations.”
Camille stepped closer.
“And you should be careful about lying to me.”
Geneviève touched her arm.
“Camille.”
But Camille couldn't stop.
“Did you know my mother?”
Étienne looked at her for a long moment.
“Yes.”
“Were you involved with her?”
“That is a private matter.”
“Did she give birth to twins?”
For the first time, Étienne seemed genuinely unsettled.
His eyes moved toward Thomas.
Then Geneviève.
Finally back to Camille.
“Who told you that?”
“My mother.”
“Your mother is dead.”
The words were spoken so quickly that Camille felt her blood turn cold.
“How do you know?”
Étienne's jaw tightened.
“I heard about her passing.”
“From whom?”
He didn't answer.
Thomas stepped between them.
“We're leaving.”
Camille wanted to argue.
But Thomas's expression warned her not to.
They turned toward the entrance.
Then Étienne spoke again.
“Camille.”
She stopped.
“Your mother was a troubled young woman. She believed many things that weren't true.”
Camille slowly turned.
“She was frightened.”
“Yes.”
“Of you?”
Étienne's eyes narrowed.
“Of the consequences of her own decisions.”
Camille felt anger rising.
“You don't get to speak about her like that.”
He took a step closer.
“Then perhaps you should ask your grandmother what happened the night your mother disappeared.”
Geneviève went rigid.
Camille looked at her.
“What does he mean?”
Étienne smiled faintly.
“Didn't she tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
He lowered his voice.
“Your grandmother was the last person who saw Élise before she vanished.”
Camille turned toward Geneviève.
“Is that true?”
Geneviève's eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
Camille stared at her.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
Étienne gave a soft, humorless laugh.
“That's what everyone seems to say in this family.”
Thomas guided them toward the exit.
Outside, Camille pulled away.
“Grandma, what happened that night?”
Geneviève opened her mouth.
But before she could answer, Camille's phone rang.
Unknown number.
This time, Camille answered.
A woman's voice whispered through static.
“Camille?”
Camille froze.
“Who is this?”
A shaky breath.
“My name is Juliette.”
Camille pressed the phone tighter against her ear.
“Where are you?”
“I don't have much time.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Listen carefully.”
Camille looked toward the foundation.
“I'm listening.”
The voice trembled.
“The man you just spoke to isn't our father.”
May you like
A pause.
“He's the man who murdered him.”
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