Chapter 6 - The Brother Who Was Never Supposed to Exist
# Chapter 6 - The Brother Who Was Never Supposed to Exist
The words on the medical report made Bastien question every memory of his childhood.
Subject B must never discover the existence of Subject A.
He read the sentence again.
Then a third time.
Subject B.
That was him.
At least, that was what Inspector Mercier had told him.
But who was Subject A?
And why had his father spent decades ensuring the two boys never met?
“Bastien?”
Mercier's voice came through the telephone.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to come to the station.”
“Why?”
“Because there's something else in the file.”
Bastien closed his eyes.
“What?”
“The records suggest that one of the boys was transferred to a private medical institution shortly after birth.”
“Which boy?”
“We don't know.”
“Where?”
Mercier hesitated.
“The Clinique Saint-Augustin.”
Bastien felt his stomach tighten.
The abandoned clinic.
The place where his father's photograph had supposedly been taken.
The building connected to Philippe Delmas.
And now, apparently, the place where his hidden brother had spent part of his childhood.
“Inspector,” Bastien said quietly, “I think someone has been controlling my family for more than thirty years.”
Mercier didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “I think you may be right.”
At the police station, Bastien was led into a small interview room.
Mercier sat across from him with a thick folder.
Beside him was a woman Bastien had never met.
She appeared to be in her late thirties, with short dark hair and an attentive expression.
“This is Doctor Camille Renaud,” Mercier explained. “She's a forensic geneticist consulting on the records.”
Camille nodded.
“I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances.”
Bastien looked at the folder.
“Tell me what you found.”
Camille opened it.
“First, I need to explain something important. The records are old, incomplete, and possibly manipulated. We cannot treat every statement in them as established fact.”
Bastien leaned forward.
“But they say there were two boys.”
“Yes.”
“With the same DNA.”
“At the genetic markers tested, the profiles were reported as indistinguishable.”
“Identical twins?”
“That's one possibility.”
“What else?”
“Duplicated records. Deliberate substitution. Laboratory error. We need fresh samples and independent verification.”
Bastien rubbed his forehead.
“Then why did my father call us Subject A and Subject B?”
Camille looked toward Mercier.
The detective nodded.
She turned another page.
“The labels appear throughout the records. But the earliest documents are missing.”
“What documents?”
“Birth records. Initial laboratory reports. Consent forms.”
Bastien stared at her.
“Consent forms?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Camille hesitated.
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
Mercier placed another document on the table.
“This is a transfer authorization from the clinic.”
Bastien examined it.
The date was thirty-four years earlier.
The signature belonged to Henri Laurent.
Beneath it was another name.
Catherine Vasseur.
Bastien felt cold.
“Catherine signed it?”
“Yes,” Mercier said.
“Then she knew about both boys.”
“Apparently.”
Bastien looked at the document again.
There was a handwritten notation beside the signatures.
Subject A transferred. Subject B retained.
He slowly raised his eyes.
“Retained?”
Camille nodded.
“That is the word used.”
“Retained where?”
“We don't know.”
Bastien looked toward the window.
For thirty-four years, he had believed he was an only child.
Now he was learning that his entire childhood might have been built around a decision made before he could even speak.
“Where is Adrien?” he asked.
Mercier's expression tightened.
“We're working to locate him.”
“You saw the video.”
“Yes.”
“He was tied to a chair.”
“We're treating that as a possible unlawful detention.”
“Then find him.”
“We're trying.”
Bastien slammed his hand against the table.
“He's my brother!”
The words surprised even him.
My brother.
He had never said them before.
Mercier waited until Bastien sat back down.
Then he spoke quietly.
“There's another reason we asked you here.”
Bastien looked up.
“We received a statement from someone who worked at Saint-Augustin.”
“Who?”
“A former nurse named Madeleine Perrin.”
Bastien immediately remembered the elderly woman outside the abandoned clinic.
The dark green coat.
The umbrella.
The warning about Catherine's first child.
“She approached me yesterday,” he said.
Mercier frowned.
“Where?”
“At the clinic.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She said Catherine's first child had disappeared.”
Mercier exchanged a glance with Camille.
“What else?”
“She recognized me. She said my father had made mistakes.”
Camille closed the folder.
“Bastien, Madeleine Perrin disappeared this morning.”
The news struck him harder than he expected.
“Disappeared?”
Mercier nodded.
“She contacted us last night and agreed to provide a formal statement. When officers arrived at her home this morning, she was gone.”
“Was there evidence of a struggle?”
“No.”
“Then maybe she left voluntarily.”
“Possibly.”
But Mercier's expression suggested he didn't believe it.
Bastien stared at the table.
“Everyone who knows the truth keeps disappearing.”
Mercier didn't contradict him.
Instead, he opened another folder.
“Before she vanished, Madame Perrin sent us a photograph.”
He slid it across the table.
Bastien looked down.
The image showed two young boys sitting on a wooden bench.
They appeared to be about eight years old.
Both had dark hair.
Both wore white shirts.
Both had the same face.
One smiled toward the camera.
The other looked frightened.
Bastien felt his breath catch.
He recognized the smiling boy.
It was him.
He remembered the photograph being taken.
His father had brought him to a large country house outside Montpellier.
He had told Bastien they were visiting an old friend.
Bastien remembered playing in the garden.
He remembered a strange boy standing behind a glass door.
But whenever he tried to approach, the adults called him away.
For years, he had dismissed the memory as a dream.
Now the photograph lay in front of him.
Proof that the other boy had been real.
“That's me,” Bastien whispered.
Camille leaned forward.
“Which one?”
Bastien pointed to the smiling child.
“The boy on the left.”
Mercier studied him.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Bastien touched the photograph.
“Because I remember that day.”
He looked at the frightened boy.
“And I remember him.”
By late afternoon, Bastien returned to the hospital.
Émilie was resting.
Manon sat beside her bed, drawing flowers on a sheet of paper.
Théo was asleep.
For a moment, Bastien stood in the doorway and watched them.
His family.
Or what he hoped could become his family.
He had spent the entire day investigating the secrets of his birth.
But now, looking at Manon, he realized something.
Whatever his father had done, whatever Catherine had hidden, whatever Adrien believed about his own identity, none of it changed the responsibility Bastien felt toward these children.
Manon looked up.
“Papa!”
He smiled.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
She ran into his arms.
“Did you find the bad lady?”
“Not yet.”
“Will she come back?”
Bastien knelt.
“I don't know. But there are people helping us stay safe.”
Manon looked at him seriously.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
She leaned closer.
“The lady who brought me to the church said you might not believe me.”
Bastien felt his chest tighten.
“What else did she say?”
“She said if you didn't believe me, I should show you the photograph.”
“The one of your mother?”
Manon nodded.
“Did she tell you anything else?”
The little girl hesitated.
“She said you had forgotten us.”
Bastien swallowed.
“I didn't forget you, Manon. I didn't know about you.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because Mama said you were a good person.”
He pulled her gently into his arms.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Then Manon whispered something unexpected.
“Papa, why did the other you come to our house?”
Bastien went still.
He slowly moved back.
“What did you say?”
“The other you.”
He stared at her.
“Manon, what do you mean?”
She frowned, confused by his expression.
“The man who looks like you.”
Bastien felt his pulse quicken.
“Did you see him?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“When Théo was in Mama's tummy.”
Bastien glanced toward Émilie.
She was still sleeping.
He turned back to Manon.
“Tell me about him.”
Manon lowered her voice.
“He came one night. Mama was happy at first.”
“And then?”
“She cried.”
Bastien felt cold.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Did the man hurt her?”
Manon shook her head.
“I didn't see.”
He waited.
Then she added, “He gave me a present.”
“What present?”
“A little wooden horse.”
Bastien stared at her.
“Do you still have it?”
Manon nodded.
“It's at home.”
“Did he say anything when he gave it to you?”
She thought carefully.
Then smiled.
“He said it used to belong to him when he was little.”
Bastien felt the room spin.
He remembered a wooden horse.
A small brown toy with one broken ear.
His father had given it to him when he was five.
He had loved it.
But one day, it disappeared.
Henri told him it had been lost during a move.
Bastien had cried for hours.
Now Manon was telling him that a man who looked exactly like him had given her the same toy.
Or one just like it.
“Manon,” he whispered, “did he tell you his name?”
She nodded.
“What was it?”
The little girl looked confused.
“He said his name was Papa.”
That evening, Bastien contacted Sophie.
She agreed to meet him in a quiet café near the hospital.
When she arrived, she looked exhausted.
“Did you find Adrien?” Bastien asked immediately.
“No.”
“Then why did you say he was dangerous?”
Sophie sat down.
“Because I know what he was told about you.”
“What?”
“That you stole his life.”
Bastien stared at her.
“How could I steal something before I was even born?”
Sophie looked down.
“Adrien doesn't see it that way.”
“Then how does he see it?”
“He believes Henri chose you.”
Bastien frowned.
“Chose me?”
Sophie nodded.
“He believes the two of you were separated because Henri wanted one son to inherit everything.”
“And the other?”
“To remain hidden.”
Bastien felt a surge of anger.
“That wasn't my decision.”
“I know.”
“Then why would Adrien hate me?”
Sophie hesitated.
“Because Catherine spent years teaching him that every good thing in your life should have belonged to him.”
Bastien looked away.
His childhood.
His education.
His father's affection.
The company.
Even Émilie.
Someone had turned his existence into a grievance that another man had carried for decades.
“Does Adrien know Catherine manipulated him?” Bastien asked.
“I think he's beginning to understand.”
“Then why doesn't he come forward?”
Sophie looked frightened.
“Because he believes Philippe will kill him.”
Bastien stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because Adrien knows something about the night Henri disappeared.”
“What?”
Sophie lowered her voice.
“He was there.”
Bastien leaned forward.
“At the accident?”
Sophie nodded.
“Adrien told me he was with Henri that evening.”
“Why?”
“They were supposed to meet Philippe.”
“Where?”
“At Saint-Augustin.”
Bastien felt his stomach tighten.
The clinic again.
Every road led back to that building.
“What happened?”
Sophie hesitated.
“Adrien said Henri discovered something that changed everything.”
“What?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
Bastien clenched his jaw.
“Sophie, people are disappearing. Julie is missing. Someone threatened my children. I need more than fragments.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know.”
“Then help me.”
She reached into her handbag.
“I brought something.”
She placed a small black USB drive on the table.
Bastien stared at it.
“What is that?”
“Adrien gave it to me two weeks ago.”
“What's on it?”
“I haven't opened it.”
“Why not?”
“Because he made me promise I wouldn't unless something happened to him.”
Bastien looked at her.
“And now?”
She swallowed.
“He hasn't answered my calls in four days.”
Bastien picked up the drive.
“Do you have a computer?”
Sophie nodded.
They moved to a quiet corner of the café.
She opened her laptop.
Bastien inserted the USB drive.
A single folder appeared.
SAINT-AUGUSTIN — PRIVATE ARCHIVE
Inside were several documents and one video file.
Bastien clicked the video.
The screen showed a room with pale walls.
A wooden table stood in the center.
Three men sat around it.
Henri Laurent.
Philippe Delmas.
And Adrien.
The recording was dated three years earlier.
The night before Henri's supposed accident.
Bastien leaned closer.
Henri looked furious.
“You promised me this would end,” he said.
Philippe remained calm.
“It can end.”
“How?”
“Sign the transfer.”
Henri shook his head.
“No.”
Philippe leaned forward.
“Then your sons will suffer.”
Adrien stood abruptly.
“Leave Bastien out of this.”
Bastien froze.
Adrien had defended him.
The brother who supposedly hated him had tried to protect him.
Henri looked toward Adrien.
“You don't understand.”
Adrien slammed his hand on the table.
“Then tell me!”
Philippe smiled coldly.
“Perhaps it's time he knew.”
Henri turned sharply.
“Don't.”
But Philippe continued.
“Ask your father why the original records were destroyed.”
Adrien stared at Henri.
“What records?”
Henri said nothing.
Philippe leaned back.
“The records proving which child was born first.”
Bastien felt his breath catch.
Adrien looked confused.
“What does that matter?”
Philippe's expression darkened.
“Because the entire inheritance arrangement depends on it.”
Henri stood.
“Enough.”
But Philippe wasn't finished.
“You built your empire on a lie, Henri.”
The older man looked exhausted.
“I was trying to protect my family.”
Philippe laughed.
“Which family?”
A long silence followed.
Then Adrien asked the question Bastien had been asking himself.
“Who am I?”
Henri slowly turned toward him.
And for the first time, Bastien saw his father cry.
“You are my son.”
Adrien shook his head.
“That's not an answer.”
Henri lowered his eyes.
“No,” he whispered. “It isn't.”
The video abruptly ended.
Bastien stared at the screen.
Sophie looked equally stunned.
“There's another file,” she whispered.
Bastien opened it.
A scanned document appeared.
It was a legal agreement dated thirty-four years earlier.
The heading read:
CONFIDENTIAL FAMILY SETTLEMENT
Bastien scrolled down.
There were signatures.
Henri Laurent.
Catherine Vasseur.
Philippe Delmas.
And a fourth person.
Bastien stopped.
His blood ran cold.
He recognized the name.
Isabelle Laurent.
His mother.
The woman who had died when he was sixteen.
The woman he had always believed knew nothing about Catherine's secrets.
Bastien stared at her signature.
Then he read the first paragraph.
The parties agree that the identities and legal status of the two male infants shall remain confidential until the designated conditions are fulfilled.
He scrolled farther.
A clause had been highlighted.
In the event of Henri Laurent's death or incapacity, control of the designated family assets shall transfer according to the identity of the first-born male child.
Bastien felt his pulse quicken.
The first-born child.
Subject A.
Subject B.
The missing birth records.
The hidden brother.
Suddenly, the financial conspiracy made sense.
Someone had concealed which boy was born first because the answer determined who controlled the family fortune.
But there was another clause.
One that made Bastien's hands begin to shake.
Should either child's biological identity be challenged, the original maternity records shall determine the rightful beneficiary.
Bastien frowned.
“Maternity records?”
Sophie leaned closer.
“Why would they need those?”
Bastien scrolled to the final page.
There was a handwritten annotation beside the signatures.
The two boys must never learn that they were born to different mothers.
Bastien stopped breathing.
He looked at Sophie.
“That can't be right.”
She stared at the screen.
“If they have identical DNA…”
Bastien shook his head.
“Then they can't have different biological mothers.”
Sophie whispered, “Unless the records are false.”
He looked back at the document.
For the first time, he realized the mystery might not be about which boy was older.
It might be about whether either of them was who they had been told they were.
Then the laptop emitted a notification.
A new file had appeared inside the folder.
Neither Bastien nor Sophie had touched the keyboard.
The file name was simple.
FOR BASTIEN — OPEN ONLY IF ADRIEN IS DEAD
Sophie gasped.
Bastien stared at the screen.
The USB drive had been in their possession for less than five minutes.
And somehow, a new file had appeared.
He clicked it.
A video opened.
Adrien sat in a dimly lit room.
His face was bruised.
There was dried blood near the scar above his eyebrow.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Bastien,” he said.
“If you're watching this, then Catherine has probably found me.”
He paused.
“I know what they told you about us.”
His voice trembled.
“But there's something you need to understand.”
Bastien leaned forward.
Adrien swallowed.
“We weren't separated because Henri wanted to choose an heir.”
He looked down.
“We were separated because one of us was never supposed to survive.”
Bastien felt cold.
Adrien continued.
“And the person who ordered it wasn't Philippe.”
He raised his eyes.
“It was someone much closer to you.”
The video flickered.
Then Adrien spoke the sentence that made Bastien's entire world collapse.
“Your mother, Isabelle, was the one who ordered Subject A to be killed.”
The screen went black.