Chapter 7: The Secret Nobody Expected

The next morning, I woke up with that familiar buzz of anticipation humming through my veins. It wasn’t the excited kind, more the ‘brace yourself, something’s about to go sideways’ kind. My mission, as I’d scribbled in my ever-growing ‘investigation notebook’ (a slightly less mysterious but equally important companion to Michel’s), was simple: Get answers. No more guesswork, no more following Michel around like a lost puppy, just direct questions and hopefully, direct answers.

I padded downstairs, my senses on high alert. Mom was humming a tune as she buttered toast, Dad was engrossed in his newspaper, and Michel… well, Michel was doing his usual thing, which involved looking far too smug for someone who regularly misplaced his homework. They all looked so… normal. It was a performance, I knew it. A carefully choreographed act for my benefit.

“So,” I began, trying to sound casual, as if I hadn’t spent half the night staring at my ceiling, replaying every suspicious glance and hushed conversation. “Does anyone remember our old house?”