Chapter 77: The Story That Should Have Been Safe

Three weeks had passed.

Three golden, impossible weeks.

The vineyard bloomed. The air was thick with lavender and late spring. Luca began planting olive trees with Leo, each one named after a lion in Leo’s bedtime stories. Evangeline filled the study with notebooks—her own, and Leo’s.

But it was Leo’s newest story that became the beginning of their public rebirth.

“Sir Roar-a-Lot and the Kingdom of No Walls”

Written and illustrated by a five-year-old with oversized dreams and smudged fingers.

Evangeline sent a copy to her old publisher in Lyon, half as a joke.

A week later, it had gone viral.

Teachers requested digital prints. Parenting blogs picked up the theme of “lions that protect, not conquer.” The illustrations were clumsy but endearing. The message? Legacy doesn’t have to be inherited. It can be rewritten.

And for the first time, Luca said yes to being seen.

They arranged a private book launch—not in a city square, but in the garden of the villa. A few journalists. Two secure photojournalists from a trusted agency. No names of real lineage. Just Leo. Just the message.

They served lemonade. Let kids play in the garden. Told stories by firelight. And for a few hours, the world was different.

Hopeful.

But in Geneva, shadows do not die quietly.

Viera sat in a candle-lit study, surrounded by ancient chessboards and flickering wall monitors. On the central screen was Leo’s face.

And beside her, silent and cold, stood Gabriel Renault.

No longer a boy.

No longer a name lost to history.

Now dressed in black, eyes blank but twitching at the edges of memory.

“Do you know who that is?” Viera asked.

Gabriel nodded slowly. “He was mine before he was theirs.”

“He is yours,” she said. “Your brother. The symbol of everything they tried to steal from you.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “She sang to me. I remember… songs. But I also remember pain. Cold. Years of it.”

“You were abandoned. By her. By him. And now they parade the boy as a miracle child.”

Gabriel looked away.

“He’s not a miracle,” Viera whispered. “He’s a message. That you were disposable.”

A pause.

Then: “Do you want to disappear again?”

Gabriel turned. “No.”

“Then it’s time you met your brother.”

Back at the villa, the air was calm again.

Leo was asleep. A copy of Sir Roar-a-Lot rested on the nightstand.

Evangeline walked the hallway barefoot, her robe tied loosely, hair damp from the bath. She passed Luca’s office and peeked in.

He was staring at the security feed.

She entered slowly. “What is it?”

He pointed to the second screen.

“New pings. From Switzerland. Same frequency as before. This time... stronger.”

“Viera?”

“Possibly. But there's something else.”

He tapped the screen.

A satellite photo.

Two figures. One woman. One taller figure beside her.

Evangeline stepped closer.

Her breath hitched.

“…Gabriel.”

“He’s moving south. Direct trajectory. They’re not sneaking. They want us to see them.”

Luca stood. “This is a psychological game.”

“No,” Evangeline said, her voice shaking. “It’s worse. They’re using Gabriel to break Leo.”

“Then we don’t let them.”

She nodded. “We prepare.”

He touched her hand. “And we protect. Whatever it takes.”

Later that night, in the same room where Leo slept soundly under his lion blanket, Gabriel stood miles away, staring at a screen replaying Leo’s book reading.

He watched the boy laugh.

Watched Evangeline hold his hand.

Watched Luca tuck a curl behind his ear.

And in his chest, something strange stirred.

Not rage.

Not even sorrow.

Just a pause.

A single beat where he remembered what it was like to be held.

And then Viera’s voice behind him: “When the moment comes, don’t hesitate.”