Elena didn't sleep that night.
She sat by her floor-to-ceiling window in the apartment overlooking Lake Geneva, watching the water ripple under a midnight moon. The city was silent, but her mind was anything but. Adrien Moreau—alive, angry, and claiming a murder wrapped in a contract—had shattered every law school lesson she ever learned about trust, evidence, and logic.
Was it a trap? A setup? Or worse—truth disguised as insanity?
At 3:12 AM, she opened the encrypted contract again. This time, she didn't read like a lawyer. She read like a woman whose family secret had clawed its way out of the past.
Clause 21.4 still sat there like a viper, waiting to strike.
And yet, another line, barely noticeable before, began to burn itself into her mind:
> "All parties to this agreement are presumed legally living or represented by verified proxies as per ICC standards."
Legally living. What a strange phrase. Who adds that to a corporate contract unless they're hiding ghosts?
She opened a new browser tab, something she hadn't done with full attention before, and typed:
"Lucas Moreau twin brother Adrien Moreau death."
No obituary. No police file. Not even a blurry tabloid article.
Adrien Moreau, the man who had walked into her office hours ago, did not officially exist.
But a deeper search into archived property records revealed something. A coastal villa in Villefranche-sur-Mer, just outside Nice, was transferred in 2007 from Delvaux Aerotech to "A. Moreau." Not Lucas. Adrien.
And the transfer happened two weeks after her uncle disappeared.
Coincidence was now officially dead.
---
By 9:00 AM, Elena was in her firm's marble-lined elevator, suit crisp, mind on fire. Her phone buzzed—unknown number.
She answered sharply. "Elena Mehra."
"Lucas Moreau is expecting you at the Parc du Bastions café. 10:00 sharp. Come alone."
The voice was female. French. Cold.
Before she could respond, the call ended.
---
10:00 AM – Parc du Bastions, Geneva
Lucas Moreau sat alone under a tree in an immaculate charcoal coat, tapping a silver lighter against his coffee cup. He looked every bit the billionaire enigma—silver-streaked hair, emotionless expression, and eyes that held centuries of secrets.
"Miss Mehra," he said without looking up. "You're here. That's good. It means you're brave. Or foolish."
"I read the contract again," she said calmly, sliding into the chair. "And I met someone last night. A man named Adrien."
Lucas's hand froze mid-tap.
"I believe he's your twin," she continued. "I also believe he's supposed to be dead."
Lucas set the lighter down and met her gaze. "And I suppose he told you I'm a murderer?"
"No. He said the contract itself killed someone. My uncle."
Lucas's jaw clenched, barely perceptible. "He's more dangerous than you realize. Adrien... is not a victim. He's a ghost clinging to a version of the past that no longer serves anyone. Including you."
"I'm not here to debate ghosts," she said, her voice hardening. "I want the truth."
Lucas leaned back, scanning the quiet park. "What you want, Miss Mehra, could destroy you. Adrien plays with sympathy and shadows. But the real world—the one I live in—requires decisions. Cold ones."
"Did you know Rohan Mehra?"
Lucas gave a tight smile. "Better than you did."
Her stomach turned.
He slid an envelope across the table. "If you want answers, read this. Then decide: do you want to be a lawyer who wins cases—or a woman chasing ghosts across Europe?"
She hesitated, then took it.
As she stood, Lucas said one last thing, his voice suddenly softer. "We both made choices that day. Your uncle. Adrien. Even me. But one of us paid with his life. Just be sure you're not next."
---
Later That Day
Elena locked her office door and opened the envelope.
Inside was a single page, dated June 14, 2006.
It was a witness protection application—signed by Rohan Mehra.
His reason: "Threat of execution for exposing defense secrets related to Project Firecloud, Delvaux Aerotech. Suspect involved: Adrien Moreau."
Below that, a stamped line read:
"Application denied. Applicant deceased before relocation could be executed."
She stared at the final word: deceased.
Adrien hadn't told her everything. Maybe he was the real danger.
And now she was caught between two brothers—one powerful, the other possibly unhinged.
Both were hiding something.
And her contract might just be the fuse to blow it all up.