Gabriel
The familiar click of Jacob’s shoes in the hallway barely registered. hadn’t moved from his desk since dawn, reviewing the preliminary findings from the Sentinelle investigation. Coffee had long since gone cold beside financial reports and surveillance photos. Lucas and Alain had taken up their usual positions, Lucas in one of the leather chairs reviewing security reports, Alain standing near the window, his attention split between the grounds and the conversation.
“Sir. Mr. Henri Rohan and—” Jacob’s formal announcement cut off as a blur of motion shot past him.
“Lucas!”
looked up just in time to see Jean launch himself at Lucas, who caught him instinctively, stumbling back a step. Then Jean was kissing him, seemingly oblivious to their audience. The joyful reunion made Henri’s appearance in the doorway all the more stark. He looked like death warmed over, his usual polished facade cracking at the edges.
“I missed you so much!” Jean finally pulled away from Lucas, though he stayed in his arms. “Henri was amazing! He kept arguing with Father about letting me come back because everyone knows I was taken from ’s house and people were starting to talk and—” Jean’s rapid-fire explanation halted as he caught ’s expression. “What?”
“Why,” kept his voice carefully controlled, “would Henri need to argue for your return?”
Jean’s brightness dimmed slightly. “Well, you know. Father likes to... share me. With his business associates. Has since I was fifteen.” He said it so casually, like discussing the weather. “But I couldn’t be passed around now because of all the gossip about where I’d disappeared to, and Henri kept pointing out how suspicious it looked, especially after your board presentation, and—”
“Jean—” stared, horrified. But Lucas’s lack of surprise caught his attention. His friend’s face held pain and anger, but no shock at Jean’s revelation.
“You knew.” It wasn’t a question.
Lucas met his gaze steadily. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”
“Father said I was beautiful,” Jean said, his forced brightness slipping. “That I could help the family... entertain his associates. Be charming.” His laugh held an edge of hysteria. “The board presentation, the investigation, suddenly everyone’s whispering about why one of the Saint-Clair heirs had to be kidnapped back from the Rohan Estate. Why he ran in the first place.” He straightened in Lucas’s arms. “Father’s friends are terrified of the scandal. No one’s going to... to touch me now. Henri made sure they understood what would happen if anyone tried to claim their old ‘privileges’ in the middle of the investigation.”
“That was generous of you, Henri,” said, studying his brother more closely. Something was wrong. Henri’s usual easy confidence was nowhere to be seen.
“The kid means a lot to Lucas. Lucas means a lot to you.” Henri’s voice was rough, exhausted. He rubbed at his neck, the movement causing his collar to gap. “Just wanted to do something right for once.”
The glimpse of dark marks ringing Henri’s throat stopped ’s breath. In two steps, he had Henri’s arm, the sleeve sliding up to reveal more bruises disappearing under his cuff.
“Everyone out.” ’s voice left no room for argument.
Lucas immediately swept Jean into his arms, earning a delighted squeal as Jean wrapped his arms around his neck. They disappeared through the door in a tangle of limbs and breathless kisses, Jean already whispering something in Lucas’s ear that made him walk faster.
Alain moved more deliberately, his eyes flickering between Henri’s collar and wrist. When his gaze met ’s, the message was clear: he’d seen the bruises, too. He closed the door behind him with a soft click.
Henri immediately moved away, putting ’s desk between them. Without his usual polish, the designer suits, the rakish grin, the carefully styled hair, he looked... young. Fragile. The shadows under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, his usually immaculate appearance showing signs of strain. For the first time, let himself really look at his brother, see past the carefully crafted playboy facade to the exhaustion etched in every line of his body.
“You look like shit,” said quietly.
Henri laughed, the sound brittle. “Thanks. Your concern is touching.”
“Why were you at the Saint-Clair estate? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” watched his brother fidget with his sleeve, trying to hide the bruises. “And don’t tell me it was all for Jean’s sake.”
Henri wouldn’t meet ’s eyes. Something in ’s tone must have cracked his defenses because when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “You remember when La Sauvegarde took that hit? Back when you were finishing high school.”
“The market crash.” frowned, remembering the stress of that final year of high school, when everything seemed to fall apart just as he prepared for college. “Father pulled us through somehow.”
“No.” Henri’s laugh was hollow, nothing like his usual practiced charm. “Olivier Saint-Clair pulled us through. Offered us an exclusive contract with his property insurance division. Still one of our biggest accounts.” He paused, fingers finding his collar again. “He didn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart.”
“What are you saying?”
“Marc was...” Henri swallowed, seeming to shrink in on himself. His words came slowly, as if each one hurt. “Marc was becoming a problem. Started with small animals—”
“What started with small animals?” ’s voice cut through Henri’s rambling, though he feared he knew the answer.
Henri seemed to collapse further into himself. “Torture.” The word fell like lead between them. “He—he liked to see how long they’d last.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Then, his younger brothers. Olivier was worried he’d get out of hand. So he offered Father a deal, a generous insurance contract to save La Sauvegarde, in exchange for... for giving Marc someone to practice being human with.” His voice softened, and for a moment, saw his little brother at seven years old, desperate to please. “I was good at it too. Marc said I was the only one who saw him. Who didn’t judge him for being different.”
“Different?” The word tasted like acid in ’s mouth. His brother had been handed over to a budding psychopath—a monster who’d graduated from torturing animals to tormenting his own siblings.
The truth hit like a physical blow as memories realigned themselves: Henri’s mysterious accidents over the years, the cocaine that had appeared in his teens—not rebellion, self-medication. All the signs he’d ignored, dismissed, choosing to believe in Henri’s carefully constructed image of the carefree playboy. His baby brother, almost a decade younger, had been just seven years old, while had been consumed with college applications and preparing to take his place at La Sauvegarde...
“You were seven.” The words came out like broken glass.
“Marc needed me.” Henri’s voice took on an almost tender note, but without his usual polished charm, it just sounded broken. “Still does. You don’t understand. When I’m there, when I’m good, he can be so different. Sometimes he even...” His arms crossed protectively over his midsection, the gesture making him look impossibly young. “I just have to try harder. Not make him angry. And he was not happy that I wanted to bring Jean back to you. To Lucas. It took some convincing.”
studied his brother’s face, really seeing him perhaps for the first time in twenty years. The dark circles under his eyes weren’t from late-night parties. The slight tremor in his hands wasn’t from too much coffee. The careful way he held himself wasn’t sophisticated poise but pain. How long had Henri been silently screaming while chose to see only the mask?
“What did you do?”
Henri smiled sadly at him. “Nothing I haven’t done before. It’s alright, though, I promise.”
“Let me help you.” took a step forward, his voice rough with desperation. “Please, Henri. We can get you away from him. I can protect you—”
“Protect me?” Henri’s laugh was brittle. “Like you protected me before?” The words should have been accusatory, but they came out tired, matter-of-fact. “No, . This is who I am now. This is what I’m good at.”
“That’s not true. You’re my brother—”
“When was the last time you acted like it?” Henri’s smile was painful to see. “No, Marc needs me. Really needs me. Nobody else has ever—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. You can’t.”
“Then help me understand.” ’s hands clenched at his sides. “I know I’ve been a terrible brother. I know I failed you. But let me fix it. Let me help you now.”
“Fix it?” Henri’s voice went soft, almost gentle. “There’s nothing to fix, . This isn’t something you can throw money at or solve with your corporate connections. This is my life. Has been for twenty years.”
“Henri…”
But Henri was already backing toward the door, trying to pull his usual charming smile back into place. It looked grotesque now that could see the pain behind it. “I should go. Marc’s waiting back at the penthouse. He doesn’t like it when I’m late.” He swallowed. “Besides, he’s been better lately. Really.” He paused in the doorway, and for a moment, the mask slipped completely, showing raw fear. “Just keep Jean safe? Please? He deserves better than—” He gestured vaguely at himself. “This.”
Then he was gone, leaving alone with the morning sun, the crystal decanter, and twenty years of blind failure to protect his little brother.
reached for his phone. His hands shook only slightly as he dialed. “Nika? Start digging into the Saint-Clairs. Everything. And Nika? I want them brought down.”
The phone slipped from his fingers onto the desk. stared at the morning light spilling across polished wood, his pulse thundering in his ears. Everything was unraveling. His father’s legacy. His brother’s life. Ellis still missing. He grabbed the crystal decanter, not bothering with a glass, and took a long swallow.
How had he missed it? All those years watching Henri play the careless playboy while Marc... while their own father... took another drink, his vision blurring at the edges. He’d been seventeen, already half-grown, when they’d effectively sold his little brother. He’d been so focused on following in Maximilien’s footsteps, on being the perfect heir, he’d failed to see what that same legacy had cost his baby brother.
The decanter hit the desk with more force than intended. Morning or not, couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when his world was crumbling around him, one revelation at a time.