Nobody said a word for ten seconds.
Madame Genevive had just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room. Then sat there like she had just talked about the weather.
Arthur Valois is alive. My father is alive.
Adrien stood near the fireplace, staring at Madame Genevieve as if she had just said the sky was green. His hands were shoved in his hair, fingers gripping so hard the strands bent.
"Say that again," he said slowly.
"I said," she repeated calmly, "your father is alive."
Adrien let out a humorless laugh.
"You're joking, right? That's not possible."
"No."
My brain kept repeating it. As if it were trying to translate the sentence into something that actually made sense.
Alive.
The word didn't fit in my head.
Adrien started pacing.
"No," he said under his breath. "No, this is— this is insane."
He stopped.
"They are dead. They drowned. It was all over the news."
"It was just a cover story," Madame Genevive replied.
Adrien barked out another humorless laugh.
"That's supposed to make it better?"
Sister Marianne shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She looked exhausted, like the last hour had taken ten years off her life.
"Adrien," she tried gently. "Please—"
"No," he cut her off immediately. "No 'please.' I'm not doing that right now."
His eyes snapped back to Madame Genevive.
"You're telling me our father has been alive this entire time. For fifteen whole years."
Madame Genevive held his gaze.
"Yes."
Adrien's jaw clenched.
"And you thought maybe," he said slowly, "maybe that was something we should know?"
"You weren't ready."
"Oh, I wasn't ready?" he snapped.
The sound echoed in the room. Something snapped. I felt a lump crawl up my throat.
"You let me grow up in an orphanage thinking my parents were dead," I said.
"That was not—"
"And he was alive the whole damn time?"
"Where is he?" I asked quietly.
For a moment she didn't answer. Then she sighed.
"If you want answers," she said, standing up, "then come with me."
Adrien frowned.
"Come with you where?"
Madame Genevive grabbed her coat from the back of the chair.
"To see him."
Adrien blinked.
"You're being serious."
Madame Genevive picked up her keys from the table.
"Very."
The Beaumont estate was huge. I had only ever seen parts of it before. The main house, the gardens, the ridiculous marble fountain Adrien once said cost more than most people's apartments.
But tonight Madame Genevive drove past all of that.
Her car rolled slowly down a narrow road that cut through the trees behind the mansion. Nobody spoke.
Adrien sat in the passenger seat with his arms crossed. His foot kept tapping the floor. I was in the back seat with Sister Marianne.
My heart was beating way too fast.
Finally, Adrien muttered, "If this is some kind of twisted therapy exercise, I swear—"
"It isn't," Madame Genevive interrupted.
A small house appeared ahead, tucked deep between the trees.
It wasn't huge like the mansion. Just a house with warm lights glowing through the windows. But there were security cameras mounted near the roof.
And a gate.
Madame Genevive punched in a code. The gate slid open.
Adrien noticed.
"Since when do guests need security?"
Madame Genevive didn't answer. She parked near the front door and turned off the engine. For a second nobody moved.
Then she said quietly, "Come inside."
Adrien looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he opened the door and stepped out.
The night air was cold. I followed them up the small stone path. Madame Genevive unlocked the door. The house inside was quiet. Too quiet.
The lights were soft. The furniture looked barely used. There was a faint smell of medicine in the air.
Adrien noticed that too.
"What is this place?" he asked.
Before Madame Genevive could answer, a sound came from the hallway, slow, uneven footsteps.
All three of us turned. A man stepped into the light.
He was tall, but thinner than he should have been. His hair was streaked with gray at the temples even though he wasn't that old.
He leaned slightly on a cane as he walked. His face looked tired.
But when Adrien saw him. He froze. Completely. The air seemed to leave the room. Because the man looked exactly like him.
Same jaw. Same eyes. Same height. Adrien whispered under his breath.
"What the hell…"
The man stopped a few feet away from us. He looked from Adrien to me like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
Then his eyes landed on me. His voice came out rough.
"…Althea?"
Adrien's head snapped toward him.
"Don't call her that!"
The man flinched slightly. Madame Genevive stepped forward.
"Arthur," she said softly.
So it was true. My father is alive. Arthur looked back at Adrien slowly.
"You must be—"
"I know who I am," Adrien cut him off sharply.
Then Adrien laughed again, but this one sounded worse than the others.
"So that's it?"
He gestured around the room.
"You've been living here the whole time?"
Arthur tightened his grip on the cane.
"It's not that simple."
Adrien took a step forward.
"Oh, good," he said. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks pretty damn simple."
"Adrien," Sister Marianne murmured.
But he ignored her.
"We thought you were dead," he said. Arthur's voice was quiet.
"I know."
"Did you?"
Adrien's eyes were burning now.
"Did you know we grew up without anyone explaining a damn thing? Did you know she grew up in an orphanage?" He pointed at me. "You let me grow up thinking I was alone."
Arthur shook his head slowly.
"I never wanted that."
"Then why didn't you come for us?"
The question hung in the room. Arthur looked down at the floor. For a moment he didn't speak.
Then he said quietly, "Because if I had, you'd both be dead."
Adrien scoffed.
"Yeah? That's convenient."
Madame Genevive stepped in.
"He's telling the truth."
Adrien shot her a glare.
"Oh, you don't get to talk right now."
My stomach twisted.
"They tried to kill me," I whispered. "Three times."
Arthur's head snapped up.
"Three times?" he repeated, his jaw tightened.
"I'm so sorry. If I had come for you, they would have finished the job."
Adrien folded his arms.
"So the solution was what? Hide in a guest house for fifteen years?"
Madame Genevive added quietly, "He lost his memory at first."
Adrien blinked.
"What?"
Arthur shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable.
"The head injury," Madame Genevive continued. "It took months before he even remembered Elena. Years before everything came back."
Adrien ran a hand down his face.
"Jesus."
Arthur glanced toward me.
"I asked about you both constantly once I remembered."
I swallowed.
"Did you ever see us?"
Arthur hesitated, then nodded.
"I saw photos of you. Genevive gave me updates."
Adrien let out a harsh laugh.
"Great. So you watched from a distance while we figured everything out ourselves."
Madame Genevive cleared her throat softly.
"Calm down and let me explain."
"You better," I snapped.
"The night of the crash," she said slowly, "I already knew something was wrong. Seraphina had been moving pieces quietly for months. Money. Lawyers. People were disappearing."
I leaned forward.
"And you just watched?"
"There was nothing I could do. Arthur warned me that if anything happened, I shouldn't interfere too early. Doing so would have started a war."
Adrien muttered something under his breath.
"When I heard about the fire at the Valois estate, I knew what was coming next. Word spread that Arthur and Elena escaped the fire."
Arthur looked down at his hands.
"So I sent people to the lake house," Madame Genevive continued. "I wanted to help them. I expected trouble… but not what happened."
She paused.
"My men arrived late. They found the vehicle underwater," she said quietly.
I curled my fingers tightly into a fist. My throat tightened.
"Elena?" I asked quietly.
Madame Genevive shook her head.
"She was already gone."
Arthur turned his face away.
"Arthur was barely breathing when they pulled him out. He had broken ribs and severe head trauma."
Adrien frowned.
"You kept him locked up?"
"I kept him safe."
"That sounds like the same thing."
"At first he didn't remember anything. It was terrifying."
She leaned back slightly.
"He woke up confused. He didn't even remember his own name. Didn't know where he was. He was like that for months."
"Jesus," Adrien muttered.
"We told him he had been in an accident," she continued.
"And he believed that?" Adrien asked.
"At first." She sighed. "But memories have a way of coming back. It started with nightmares. He'd wake up screaming Elena's name."
"I didn't know why," Arthur whispered. "I just knew the name meant something."
My chest tightened.
"Eventually the memories came back. Slowly. Fragments at first."
The words made my stomach twist.
"He started asking questions," she said. "Questions I couldn't answer."
"And then what?" Adrien asked.
Madame Genevive gave a tired smile.
"Then he demanded to see his children. He wanted to see you. He wanted to leave immediately. He said he didn't care about the risk."
Adrien crossed his arms.
"Let me guess. You said no."
"Yes."
Adrien pushed away from the wall.
"You're unbelievable."
"I was protecting him."
"You were controlling him."
Madame Genevive looked tired suddenly.
"You don't understand what Viktor Volkov is capable of."
Adrien gave a short laugh.
"Oh, we do."
"So you watched from a distance while we figured everything out ourselves," I said.
Arthur didn't defend himself.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
The room fell quiet again. Nobody seemed to know what to do with that.
Then, a phone rang. It was coming from my pocket. My hands suddenly felt clumsy as I pulled the phone out.
It was the hospital. My chest tightened.
"Hello?"
A voice spoke on the other end.
"You need to come now. His condition has changed," the doctor said.
My stomach dropped. Adrien was staring at me.
"What happened?"
I lowered the phone slowly.
My voice came out thin.
"It's Dmitri."