He Took One Bite and Remembered His Mother

Chapter 2

The old woman looked frightened the moment the man spoke.

She stepped back from Adrian as if she had done something wrong. Her hands gripped the cart handle so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

The man in the doorway came forward with the calm confidence of someone used to control.

"Forgive her," he said. "She gets confused."

"I'm not confused," the woman snapped suddenly, surprising everyone. "I know my own son."

The man smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

"You see?" he said to Adrian. "This happens often."

Adrian did not answer. His eyes stayed on the woman.

His mother, Marianne Morel, had been declared dead eleven years ago. He had been twenty at the time, newly enlisted, with no money and no power. He had received the letter while stationed near the border. Sudden illness. Quiet burial. No reason to return.

He had believed it.

All these years, he had believed it.

And yet here she was. Frail. Poor. Selling bread in the street.

Elise stepped closer to Adrian. "Who is this man?"

The stranger removed his gloves slowly.

"Dr. Lucien Varel," he said. "I've cared for Madame Morel for years."

Adrian looked at him sharply. "If you've cared for her, why is she living like this?"

Lucien's expression did not change. "Because she refuses help."

"That's a lie," Marianne said, louder now. "He kept me here."

Lucien turned to her at once. "You are tired. Let's go inside."

Marianne shook her head violently. "No. Not until I tell him."

Adrian moved toward her. "Tell me what?"

Her breathing became uneven. She clutched his sleeve.

"The day you left... I wrote to you. I wrote every week. But the letters never came back."

Adrian stared. "I never got any letters."

"Of course you didn't," Lucien said smoothly. "War swallows mail. Everyone knows that."

But Marianne was crying now.

"Your father didn't die in the factory," she said. "He was killed. Because of what he knew."

The entire street seemed to go quiet.

Adrian's father had died in an industrial accident when Adrian was a boy. That had been the official story for twenty years.

"What are you talking about?" Adrian asked.

Marianne tried to answer, but Lucien stepped forward.

"Enough," he said. "She's upsetting herself."

Adrian caught the edge in his voice.

Not concern.

Warning.

Then Marianne reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small rusted key.

She pressed it into Adrian's hand.

"Under the floorboards," she whispered. "In the old bakery."

Lucien's face went pale.

And Adrian knew, in that instant, that whatever his mother remembered... was true.