Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 51 - Chapitre 60

“Because we made sure you wouldn't.” Marielle's words stayed with Seraphina long after the room fell silent. She looked at the photograph on the screen. The little girl wearing the silver pendant was unmistakably her, standing beside her mother in a place she couldn't remember visiting. “How?” Seraphina asked. “How did you make me forget?” Marielle lowered her eyes. “We moved you away from everything connected to the foundation. Your mother changed your surroundings, your routines, even the stories you grew up hearing. Your father believed that if you could build a life without remembering what happened, no one could use those memories against you.” “That doesn't explain why I don't remember him disappearing.” “Your memories from that period were already confused. You were very young, and everything happened quickly. We didn't erase your mind, Seraphina. We hid the truth from you, and we encouraged you to accept the explanation we gave you.” Seraphina stepped away from the scree

Seraphina read the message again **Ask your father why he gave me your name.** The words seemed deliberately chosen to unsettle her. Whoever had sent them knew about the childhood meeting, the silver key and the promise she had only just begun to remember. Caelric took a screenshot and forwarded it to security. “Don't reply,” he advised. “We need to establish who sent it before we give them any indication of what we know.” “I wasn't planning to.” She slipped her phone into her bag, although the question remained in her mind. Why had her father given someone her name? Not her photograph. Not her address. Her name. It sounded like an agreement, perhaps even an introduction, made when she was too young to understand its significance. Theron was watching her. “Have you ever heard your father mention a man who promised to return?” “No. My father rarely spoke about my childhood before we moved.” “Did he keep anything from that period?” Seraphina thought of the pendant, the few

“Mine?” Seraphina repeated the word as though saying it aloud might make it less impossible. Her mother nodded slowly. “Your identity was used to create the witness credential. I was given temporary permission to use it because the system would not accept my own authorization.” “Why would a system designed to protect me require my identity to protect me?” “It wasn't designed for that purpose,” Theron answered. “The witness credential allowed someone to enter restricted records and preserve evidence without revealing the identity of the person being protected.” Seraphina turned toward him. “You're saying someone used me as a disguise?” “Not exactly. The credential was created in your name, but that doesn't mean you understood or approved its creation.” “That distinction doesn't make it better.” “No,” he admitted. “It doesn't.” Caelric stood at the other side of the conference table, studying the archive results on his phone. He had not attempted to activate the credential, and

By eight the following morning, Seraphina had read the anonymous message so many times that she no longer needed to look at her phone to remember its words. *The person who disappeared was not your father.* Someone wanted her to believe that another disappearance had occurred before her father's, and that Marielle Veyron had signed a second witness statement three days later. If the message was genuine, the implications were enormous. If it was false, someone understood her fears well enough to manipulate her. Either way, she needed evidence. Caelric entered the private office carrying two cups of coffee and a thin folder. “I have something,” he said, setting one cup beside her. Seraphina accepted the coffee. “Please tell me it's the second statement.” “Not quite. I found the reference number from the photograph in an archived index. The document was filed under restricted personnel records, not foundation finance.” “Personnel records?” “Someone wanted it treated as an employ

Seraphina read Darian's final sentence again.“The original authorization was created before I was born.”Darian nodded.“Do you have proof?”“I have a reference number and a date. The original document was never included in the archive I recovered.”“Then how do you know it existed?”“Because I saw the registration entry myself. It was recorded under a restricted family agreement, separate from the succession system.”Caelric moved closer to the desk. “How far before her birth?”“Almost two years.”Seraphina gripped the edge of the table.Two years before she was born, someone had created an authorization in her name. Before she had a face, a voice, or even a name chosen by her parents, somebody had already prepared a place for her in a system she had never consented to join.“Who registered it?” she asked.Darian hesitated.“Your father.”The answer should have surprised her, but a part of her had expected it.“My father created an authorization for a child who didn't exist yet?”“H