Chapter 4 - The Father Who Refused to Stay Dead
The man who emerged from the darkness was older than Sophie remembered.
That should have been obvious.
Seventeen years changed everyone.
Yet childhood memory had preserved Étienne Dubois permanently at fifty-two.
Dark hair threaded with gray.
Deep smile lines.
Blue eyes that seemed amused even when he was angry.
The man walking toward her now had completely silver hair.
His shoulders curved slightly forward.
A scar crossed the left side of his jaw.
But his eyes were unchanged.
“Sophie.”
Her knees nearly failed.
Nobody moved.
Not Alessandro.
Not Luca.
Not Laurent.
Sophie stared at the dead man who had taught her to ride a bicycle.
“You died.”
Étienne stopped several feet away.
His face broke.
“I know.”
“You died.”
“I’m sorry.”
She crossed the distance and struck him.
Harder than she had struck Alessandro.
Étienne stumbled.
Sophie hit him again.
Then again.
“You died!”
Her voice cracked.
“You left me!”
Étienne did not defend himself.
“I know.”
“You let me bury you!”
“I know.”
“You let me spend seventeen years thinking I had nobody!”
Tears blurred her vision.
“I know.”
Then Sophie collapsed against him.
Étienne wrapped his arms around her.
For several seconds she became seventeen again.
A frightened girl standing outside a cemetery.
A girl who had watched strangers lower the last person she loved into the ground.
She grabbed his coat.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“I hate you.”
“I love you.”
She cried harder.
Alessandro turned away.
Luca wiped his eyes.
Even Laurent looked uncomfortable.
Finally Sophie stepped back.
Her face hardened.
“Start talking.”
Étienne nodded.
They moved into the hidden room behind the cellar.
It looked less like a criminal headquarters and more like an old records archive.
Metal shelves.
Paper files.
Maps.
Photographs.
No weapons.
No luxury.
Sophie looked around.
“You’ve been here?”
“For three months.”
“Where were you before?”
“Everywhere.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
“Try again.”
Étienne sat.
“Switzerland. Morocco. Canada. Brazil. Belgium. Anywhere the Circle wasn’t looking.”
Sophie remained standing.
“Laurent said you run the Circle.”
Étienne looked at him sharply.
“I said she’d misunderstand.”
“You said what was necessary.”
Étienne sighed.
“I don’t run the Argent Circle.”
Sophie folded her arms.
“Then what?”
“I run what remains of the people trying to destroy it.”
Alessandro finally spoke.
“You could have contacted me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know if Vittorio’s son had become Vittorio.”
Alessandro’s expression darkened.
“And now?”
“I’m still deciding.”
Sophie stepped between them.
“This isn’t about either of you.”
She looked at Étienne.
“Who was my biological father?”
The question silenced the room.
Étienne lowered his eyes.
“You were always my daughter.”
“I know.”
“Sophie—”
“I know.”
She moved closer.
“But I need the truth.”
Étienne exhaled.
“Vittorio Moretti.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
Sophie stared at him.
That meant Alessandro was—
“My brother.”
Half brother.
Technically.
But the word felt enormous.
Alessandro looked stunned for the first time since she met him.
Étienne continued.
“Claire met Vittorio while working as an art restorer. He used galleries to move money and valuable pieces across borders.”
“Did she love him?”
“For a time.”
“Did you know?”
“Not at first.”
“And after?”
“I loved Claire before she loved me.”
Pain crossed his face.
“When she became pregnant, Vittorio wanted her hidden. Claire refused. She had already begun understanding what he was involved in.”
Sophie whispered, “The Circle.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you raise me?”
Étienne looked almost offended.
“Because you were mine.”
“Not biologically.”
“I didn’t care.”
That nearly broke her again.
Étienne continued.
“Claire eventually helped me investigate Vittorio. We became partners.”
“You fell in love.”
“I never stopped.”
Sophie sat.
“And he poisoned her.”
Étienne’s face changed.
“I believed so.”
“Believed?”
“We never proved it.”
Alessandro asked, “Was it my father?”
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
Étienne’s voice became cold.
“Vittorio was many things. Cruel. Criminal. Arrogant. But he didn’t kill Claire.”
“Who did?”
“Someone above him.”
Alessandro frowned.
“There was nobody above him.”
“There was always someone above him.”
Étienne opened a file.
Inside were photographs of politicians, bankers, executives and men Sophie didn’t recognize.
“The Argent Circle had twelve senior members.”
He pointed toward Vittorio.
“Your father was number eight.”
Alessandro stared.
“Who was number one?”
Étienne looked at Sophie.
“That is what Claire discovered.”
He opened another folder.
Empty.
“The name disappeared with the original ledger.”
Sophie frowned.
“You said Claire stole it.”
“She did.”
“Where did she put it?”
“I thought she gave it to me.”
“You thought?”
“She gave me a copy.”
Étienne nodded toward the seven locks hidden behind the wine bottles.
“That is what I protected.”
“Then what’s behind those doors?”
“Fragments of the copy.”
Luca looked confused.
“Why fragments?”
“Because no single person should have everything.”
Sophie remembered the stranger outside.
“Were you across the street tonight?”
“No.”
Everyone froze.
Alessandro’s head snapped toward Étienne.
“The man with your cane.”
“My cane has been here.”
Laurent looked down.
He still held it.
Sophie’s stomach dropped.
“Then who did we see?”
Étienne stood.
“That’s why I came out.”
Alessandro looked toward the hidden entrance.
“We’re being watched.”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
Étienne walked toward a wall covered in photographs.
He removed one.
A woman.
Early sixties.
Elegant.
Silver-blonde hair.
Sophie knew the face.
Her stomach twisted.
“Mrs. Bellamy.”
The woman who had told Sophie about the restaurant job.
Étienne nodded.
“Her real name is Evelyn Shaw.”
“Who is she?”
Étienne stared at the photograph.
“Claire’s sister.”
Sophie went cold.
“My aunt?”
“Yes.”
“Why have I never heard of her?”
“Because Evelyn betrayed your mother.”
Sophie stared.
“To the Circle?”
Étienne nodded.
“She was one of them.”
Alessandro asked, “Still alive?”
“Obviously.”
Sophie remembered Evelyn’s kind smile at the coffee shop.
The warm voice.
You seem like a hardworking girl.
L’Étoile Noir may be looking for someone.
Sophie felt sick.
“She sent me here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She wanted you to open the cellar.”
The seven locks.
The childhood numbers.
Everything had been arranged.
Sophie looked around.
“Then we shouldn’t open them.”
Étienne’s expression became grim.
“We have to.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn already knows six of the seven codes.”
“How?”
“She tortured—”
Étienne stopped himself.
Sophie stared.
“What?”
“She extracted information from someone who worked with me.”
“Who?”
Luca’s face changed.
Étienne looked at him.
“Henri.”
Luca sat slowly.
“My brother.”
Sophie covered her mouth.
Étienne continued.
“She needs the seventh location.”
Sophie looked at her handwritten numbers.
“877.”
“Yes.”
“What happens if she gets it?”
“The final fragment contains the identity of Argent One.”
Alessandro’s expression sharpened.
“The person above my father.”
Étienne nodded.
“The person who ordered Claire’s death.”
Silence.
Sophie looked toward the hidden doorway.
“Then Evelyn will come.”
“She already has.”
Étienne turned toward a monitor.
Security footage appeared.
The dining room upstairs.
Camilla Russo stood near the entrance.
Sophie frowned.
“Camilla?”
Then another figure stepped into view.
Evelyn Shaw.
Camilla turned toward her.
And kissed her cheek.
Alessandro’s face became stone.
Étienne whispered, “That is your problem.”
Sophie stared at the screen.
Camilla opened her purse.
Inside was a photograph.
Sophie’s photograph.
Evelyn pointed toward the cellar.
Then she said something the security microphone barely caught.
“Alessandro believes the girl is his sister.”
Camilla smiled.
“And when he learns she isn’t?”
Sophie looked at Alessandro.
Nobody breathed.
Étienne reached for the microphone controls.
But the next words came clearly.
May you like
Evelyn said:
“Vittorio Moretti was never Sophie’s father.”
