Adrien said it calmly, which took me a moment to understand.
"You were adopted."
He nodded. I just stared at him not knowing what to say.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Your mom—Madame Genevieve—she's not—"
He rubbed the back of his neck like the words were uncomfortable for him.
"She's my mom." His voice got sharp. Then he softened. "She's my mom, Isabelle. She raised me. But no. She didn't give birth to me."
I sat down on the edge of my bed. I was starting to feel dizzy. I hadn't eaten in days. Probably should have sat down sooner.
"How long have you known?"
He moved some clothes off my chair and sat down. "I figured it out a long time ago, " he said. "Since I was eight. Maybe nine. I found the papers."
"Papers?"
"Adoption papers. In her safe." He sighed. "I wasn't supposed to see them. I was being a little shit, sneaking around where I shouldn't. Opened the safe because she had left it open one day. I thought I'd find some jewelry or something but found my whole life in a folder instead."
"That's not something you just mention casually like that, " I said.
He shrugged. "I didn't feel like making a deal about it."
"So what did you do after that?"
"Nothing. Closed the safe. Pretended I didn't see it." He looked at the floor. "I was a kid. I thought if I said something, they'd send me back. Like I was a library book they could return."
"Adrien."
"I know. I was being stupid. But I was eight."
I wanted to say something comforting but I didn't have the right words. My brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton.
We were quiet for a moment.
Then Adrien cleared his throat. "She wants to meet you," he said. "My mom. Madame Genevieve."
"What?" I was surprised.
"Your mom?" I repeated.
"Why does she want to see me?" I asked.
"She thinks it's time to explain everything," he said.
"She invited you to the estate. Today. Well—" He looked at my dress. "Maybe after you eat something. And shower. No offense."
I looked down at my clothes feeling a bit self-conscious. I was still wearing the dress from two days ago and it was wrinkled and stained. I probably smelled.
"None taken."
"You're not taking me anywhere looking like this, " I said.
Adrien just laughed. "Trust me I've seen worse. First, let's get you something to eat."
I said I wasn't hungry. He just told me to come anyway.
We ended up at a small café near campus.
I ordered soup because it seemed easier than chewing. Adrien ordered coffee and watched me eat like he was waiting for me to collapse.
"I'm fine," I said between spoonfuls.
"You look like shit."
"Thanks."
"Seriously, when was the last time you ate something?"
Honestly, I couldn't even remember. "Soup's good."
He shook his head as he drank his coffee.
The soup was okay. At least, it was warm. My stomach hurt at first, like it forgot how to handle food. But after a few spoonfuls, it settled.
We didn't talk much. Just sat there. Two people who didn't know how to be related, sharing a table.
"See you're alive," Adrien said as we finished up.
I rolled my eyes. "That's debatable," I said.
"You've been locked in that room for two days. If you pass out from starvation, I'm not explaining that to the doctors."
I knew he was right so I didn't bother arguing.
An hour later we pulled into the Beaumont estate. I remembered the first time I came here. This time it felt different. The house seemed bigger and more imposing, as if it were hiding secrets.
Adrien parked near the entrance and asked if I was ready. I said no. He just said, "Good enough."
We walked inside. The butler barely looked up at us. I guess he was used to seeing people in all sorts of conditions.
"Mom?" he called. "We're here."
"In the salon, darling." Her voice came from somewhere inside.
I followed Adrien through halls that looked like a museum. Old paintings. Vases. Furniture that cost more than I'd ever seen.
Madame Genevieve sat on a couch. She wore a simple dress that probably cost a fortune.
Next to her sat Sister Marianne. I stopped walking.
"What's she doing here?"
Sister Marianne looked older than I remembered. And she had gotten smaller. Like something had been shrinking her from the inside.
She stood up, her hands shaking. "Isabelle " she said, her voice trembling.
Madame Genevieve stood up. She took my hands in hers.
"You look thin," she said. "Are you alright, my dear?"
"I'm trying my best."
She smiled. "Sit down, Isabelle. Both of you. There are things you need to hear."
Madame Genevieve gestured for us to sit down. Adrien sat next to me. Close enough that our knees almost touched.
Madame Genevieve went back to her chair. She glanced at Sister Marriane and nodded.
"Lets skip the talk " I said. "I want to know what's going on."
"You deserve the truth, " Madame Genevive said, looking serious.
Sister Marianne folded her hands in her lap. She stared at them for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet.
"I made a choice. Years ago. A choice I've carried every day since."
"Your mother—Elena—the day of the incident. A nanny came to the orphanage, carrying twin babies. She said Elena sent her.
Adrien sat up straight, his eyes wide. "A twin?" he repeated.
Sister Marianne nodded. "She made me promise that no matter what happened, I would not let anyone take you. That you would stay hidden until it was safe."
"But it wasn't safe," I said. "It never got safe."
"No. It didn't."
Adrien and I exchanged looks.
Madame Genevieve finally spoke. "I arrived at the orphanage a day later with lawyers and everything. I was desperate to find you."
Sister Marianne looked at her, her eyes filled with tears.
"I… I made a decision that would change everything."
I felt a lump form in my throat.
"What did you do?" I asked.
Sister Marianne took a breath. "I faked your death. I told Madame Genevieve that one of the twins had died during the night."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You what?" I said, my voice shaking.
Sister Marianne nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I was trying to protect you. I gave Adrien to Madame Genevieve. You stayed at the orphanage."
"So I've been living in a mansion my life while you were… there," Adrien said.
I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions. I was angry, hurt, and confused. Most of all I was grateful to finally know the truth.
Madame Genevieve stood up, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry Isabelle, " she said. "I'm so sorry for everything."
I didn't know what to say. I knew that I needed time to process everything.
"I knew," Adrien said.
"I knew I was adopted. Since I was a kid."
Madame Genevieve's face changed. "Adrien—"
"I found the papers. In your safe. When I was eight."
Madame Genevive looked shocked.
"I wasn't snooping. Well, I was. But I didn't mean to find that." He kept staring at the floor. "I opened the safe and there it was. My whole life in a folder."
"Adrien, why didn't you ever say anything?" Madame Genevieve sounded hurt.
"Because I was scared." He looked up. Met her eyes. "I was eight. I thought if I said anything, you'd send me back. For poking around."
"Mon Dieu." Madame Genevieve pressed a hand to her mouth.
"I spent years waiting for it to happen. Every time you got mad at me, I thought— This is it. She's done. She's sending me back." He laughed. "Stupid, right?"
Madame Genevieve walked to Adrien. Sat next to him and took his face in her hands.
"You are my son," she said firmly. "I chose you. I fought for you. You are not a mistake. You were never a mistake."
For the first time in my life, I felt like I was one step closer to the truth.
Madame Genevive went back to her seat.
"There is one thing," she said.
Adrien let out a groan.
"Of course, there is."
"What I am about to say cannot leave this room… yet," she said.
Genevieve put her hands together.
"When the thing with the lake happened everyone thought Arthur died."
My heart stopped beating for a second.
Yes," I said slowly.
"That's what the reports said."
Sister Marianne looked really nervous. Madame Genevive took a deep breath.
"They were wrong."
Adrien frowned.
"What?"
She met my eyes.
"Arthur didn't die that night."
The room went completely silent.
"That's not possible," I muttered.
"He survived."
Adrien leaned forward.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
I felt my pulse spike.
"Where is he?"
Genevieve's expression darkened.
"That," she said quietly, "is the real problem."