Chapter 6 - The Night Sébastien Disappeared
Sébastien didn’t resist.
That frightened me more than if he had fought.
Detective Delon placed him under temporary detention pending identity verification.
I stood against the hotel wall.
The man I had loved for six years looked at me while another officer secured his wrists.
“Lucie.”
I couldn’t answer.
“Please.”
“I don’t know who you are.”
Pain crossed his face.
“I’m your husband.”
“Then why don’t your fingerprints match?”
“I don’t know.”
They took him away.
I spent that night alone under police protection.
I didn’t sleep.
Every memory became contaminated.
Our wedding.
His proposal.
The first apartment we rented.
The time he stayed awake with me for thirty-six hours when my mother died.
Our terrible vacation in Naples where our luggage disappeared and we survived for three days wearing souvenir shirts.
Every intimate detail became a question.
Could someone have learned all of it?
Could Gabriel have replaced Sébastien recently?
When?
Three weeks ago?
Three months?
Four years?
Had I kissed my husband yesterday?
Or a man trained to imitate him?
At 4:12 a.m., my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Lucie?”
Gabriel.
“What do you want?”
“To keep you alive.”
“You murdered Nicolas.”
“No.”
“You impersonated Sébastien.”
“No.”
“Then prove something.”
“I can’t prove anything over the phone.”
“Try.”
He was silent.
Then said, “Your husband disappeared for forty-seven minutes last night.”
“What?”
“Before he got into bed with you.”
I sat upright.
“He left the apartment at 1:31.”
“How do you know?”
“Building camera.”
“And returned?”
“2:18.”
The accident happened at 2:48.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No.”
Gabriel’s breathing was audible.
“But ask police where Nicolas’s blood was found.”
“Where?”
“Not only inside the SUV.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where else?”
“In Sébastien’s company parking garage.”
I called Delon immediately.
He confirmed it.
A blood trace matching Nicolas had been discovered near a service elevator at Sébastien’s office.
Then came another revelation.
The government fingerprint record for Sébastien might have been altered.
Someone accessed the database four months earlier.
“Who?” I asked.
“We’re tracing it.”
So the fingerprint mismatch proved nothing.
By dawn, I no longer knew whether that was good news.
At nine, Detective Delon arrived.
He looked exhausted.
“We found security footage.”
“Of what?”
“Your husband’s office garage.”
He showed me the video.
Timestamp 11:42 p.m.
Nicolas entered the frame wearing a dark coat.
A minute later, Sébastien appeared.
The man now in police custody.
They argued.
No audio.
Nicolas shoved him.
Sébastien shoved back.
Then a third identical man walked into frame.
Gabriel.
My stomach dropped.
Three faces.
Same face.
Nicolas pointed angrily at Gabriel.
Sébastien tried to intervene.
Gabriel struck Nicolas.
Hard.
Nicolas fell.
The video froze.
“What happened next?”
“Camera failed.”
“Convenient.”
“Someone disabled the system.”
“Gabriel.”
“Possibly.”
“What does Sébastien say?”
“He says Nicolas was alive when he left.”
“Why did he leave?”
“Gabriel threatened you.”
Of course.
Everything led back to me.
“Then who put Nicolas in the SUV?”
“We found another camera.”
Delon played it.
Blurry exterior footage.
2:36 a.m.
Two men loaded an unconscious body into Sébastien’s SUV.
One was Gabriel.
The second man’s face wasn’t visible.
“But his height and build match your husband.”
My knees weakened.
“So Sébastien helped.”
“Maybe.”
“Or another accomplice.”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzed.
A message.
If you want the truth, go to the old university library. Alone. 11 p.m.
I showed Delon.
He told me absolutely not.
By 10:55 that night, I was standing behind the university library.
Not alone.
Police officers were positioned nearby.
I wore a concealed microphone.
The alley behind the library looked smaller than I remembered.
This was where Sébastien had kissed me for the first time.
Where one of the happiest memories of my life had begun.
At 11:03, a figure emerged.
Gabriel.
He stopped beneath a streetlight.
“You brought police.”
“Yes.”
“Smart.”
“What happened to Nicolas?”
Gabriel looked tired.
“He wanted to become Sébastien.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Permanently.”
“He planned to kill him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Money. Access. You.”
My skin crawled.
“Me?”
“Nicolas was obsessed with the life Sébastien had.”
Gabriel looked away.
“At first this was about recovering money we believed our mother stole. Then Nicolas started watching you.”
“For four years.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I tried.”
“After four years?”
His face tightened.
“I’m not a good man, Lucie.”
At least he admitted it.
“I helped him commit crimes.”
“But you didn’t want murder.”
“No.”
“What happened last night?”
“Nicolas called Sébastien to the garage. He intended to force him to sign account transfers.”
“And you?”
“I was already there.”
“The video shows you hitting Nicolas.”
“He pulled a knife.”
“What happened after the cameras went off?”
Gabriel swallowed.
“Nicolas woke up.”
“Then?”
“He attacked me.”
“Who loaded him into the SUV?”
“I did.”
“With whom?”
Gabriel looked toward the darkness behind me.
“With Sébastien.”
My heart dropped.
“Why?”
“We were taking Nicolas to a private clinic.”
“Why not a hospital?”
“Because he had outstanding warrants under multiple identities.”
“That’s not your decision.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
Gabriel’s voice changed.
“On the highway, Nicolas woke up.”
“Inside the SUV?”
“Yes.”
“He attacked Sébastien.”
“Who was driving?”
“Nicolas.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“He took control after forcing us out at a fuel station.”
“Both of you?”
“He had a gun.”
“Where is the gun?”
“I don’t know.”
The story sounded impossible.
Then Gabriel reached into his coat.
Police shouted.
“Hands!”
Gabriel stopped.
Slowly removed a phone.
He threw it toward me.
“Watch the video.”
Police rushed forward.
I picked up the device.
The screen was already open.
A video file.
Timestamp 2:41 a.m.
I pressed play.
Inside the SUV.
Nicolas sat behind the wheel.
Bleeding from his forehead.
He looked into the camera.
Same face as Sébastien.
But his eyes were wild.
“If I can’t have his life,” he said, “nobody does.”
Then he showed the wedding ring.
The watch.
The wallet.
He laughed.
“Tomorrow, Sébastien Reyes dies.”
The recording ended.
I stared at Gabriel.
“So Nicolas staged his own death as Sébastien.”
Gabriel nodded.
“But why deliberately crash?”
“He didn’t intend to die.”
“What?”
“The plan was to abandon the SUV after damaging it, plant blood and disappear.”
“But he crashed.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Gabriel looked past me.
“Because someone tampered with the brakes.”
The world seemed to stop.
Four months earlier, someone had also tampered with Sébastien’s brakes.
I suddenly understood.
“Nicolas.”
Gabriel nodded.
“He sabotaged Sébastien’s car before.”
“And forgot that he’d sabotaged the replacement vehicle too?”
“No.”
Gabriel’s expression turned grave.
“He wasn’t the one who sabotaged the SUV.”
“Then who was?”
Before he could answer, a gunshot cracked through the night.
Gabriel jerked backward and fell.
Police shouted.
I screamed.
Across the street, a dark figure ran.
And for half a second beneath a streetlight, I saw his face.
Sébastien’s face.
May you like
Again.
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