A week had passed since Ryder had launched his personal investigation. Each day, he became more certain that this "Victoire" wasn't really their Victoire. That morning, he was up before everyone else, eyes glued to his screen. He had just received the results of a biometric comparison he had secretly sent to a computer expert friend.
"Genetic match: 59%. Conclusion: Different individuals."
"I knew it..." he whispered.
Heart pounding, he printed the report, slipped it into an envelope, and rushed out toward the empty recording studio. He needed a quiet place to think—and above all… to confront the impostor.
---
The fake Victoire was already in the studio. He was rehearsing lyrics from a song they had written in their childhood. When he saw Ryder enter, Ryder slammed the door behind him.
"We need to talk. Now."
The fake Victoire turned, feigning surprise.
"What's going on, Ryder?"
"Drop the act. I know you're not Victoire."
A chilling silence followed. The fake Victoire gave a nervous laugh.
"What are you talking about?"
Ryder pulled the documents out of his bag.
"You're a 59% biometric match with Victoire. That's not enough. Maybe you're his lookalike, but you're not him. You're playing a role—and I want to know why!"
The fake Victoire stared at him, then sighed.
"I guess I can't hide anything anymore."
He sat down on a stool.
"You're right. I'm not the real Victoire. My name is actually Victoire, yes, but I'm not the one you knew. Diego called me over a month ago. He explained everything. He said I looked uncannily like a lost friend. He asked me to play this role… to help someone."
"To help who?" Ryder hissed.
"I'm not allowed to tell you."
"You really think I'm just going to let this go?!"
"I know you're angry. But I didn't hurt anyone. I just played a part… to protect a much greater truth. And… you don't want that truth, Ryder. It would hurt more than you think."
Ryder stepped back, shaken. His fists unclenched. He took the envelope back.
"You're still lying. I can feel it."
The fake Victoire shook his head.
"I'm not lying. I just kept what I couldn't reveal. But if you want to expose me, go ahead. I won't defend myself. I'm tired of lying."
He stood up and slowly walked out of the room.
---
That evening, Ryder found Dylan on the terrace. The air was cool, and the city was slowly falling asleep. He stared at the horizon, hands in his pockets.
"You knew about him," Ryder said without turning around.
Dylan remained silent.
"He's not Victoire. And you knew. From the beginning."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it was necessary. For all of us."
"And what's the truth?" Ryder nearly shouted.
"This isn't the time, Ryder. Believe me, some truths… need to wait. Otherwise, they destroy everything."
Ryder looked at him for a long moment, then sighed.
"Fine. But sooner or later, I'll figure it out. And when that day comes… I hope you're ready."
He walked away, leaving Dylan alone in silence, his mind troubled.