CHAPTER 2: THE NAME SHE NEVER FORGOT
The ballroom suddenly felt smaller.
Hélène slowly removed the silver-haired man's hand from her arm.
For the first time in decades, her voice carried emotion.
"Hugo... why are you stopping her?"
Several nearby guests turned their heads.
The waitress looked between them, confused.
The man maintained his polite smile.
"Because tonight is your charity gala, Hélène. Not the place to revisit painful memories."
Hélène ignored him.
She turned back toward the young woman.
"What is your mother's name?"
The waitress hesitated.
"My mother's name was Marion Rousseau."
Everything stopped.
Hélène inhaled sharply.
Thirty years ago.
Marion Rousseau.
Her daughter.
The daughter everyone told her had died.
Hugo's jaw tightened.
The waitress continued softly.
"She passed away two years ago."
Then she reached into her apron pocket.
"My mother also left me this letter. She said if I ever met a woman named Hélène de Rochemont, I should give it to her."
The envelope trembled in Hélène's hands.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
May you like
Marion.
Her daughter was speaking to her one final time.
