Chapter 7 Secrets That Sting

Marc Blanchet POV

Everything you think is private will eventually crawl into the light.

That's what Sophie's eyes told me as I stared at the phone in her shaking hand. The video kept playing-her face flushed and laughing, tangled in Korex's arms. Her voice, sharp and familiar, saying things that crushed what little was left of my faith in her.

"I didn't know he was recording," she whispered. I said nothing. What could I say? A week ago, I would've fought for her. Lied for her. Killed for her. Now, I didn't even want to look at her.

"I was drunk, Marc. Stupid. Angry. You were gone all the time, and Korex-he listened. That's all it was. One night. A mistake."

I took the phone from her, thumb hovering over the pause button. I didn't want to hear another second, but I had to. I needed to know just how deep the betrayal ran.

On screen, Korex lit a cigarette and smirked. "Don't worry. If he steps out of line, I'll bury him with this. And you? You'll walk away clean."

Sophie didn't argue. She didn't flinch.

She just nodded. The video ended. Silence stretched between us like a chasm. She reached for me. "Marc-" I stepped back. "You planned this?" My voice was low, raw, almost foreign.

"No! I didn't " "Then why did you stay with him after that night?"

"I was scared. He said if I left, he'd send it to the press. I didn't know how to tell you. I wanted to-but things got so complicated."

I laughed bitterly. "Complicated? You think betrayal is a knot we can just untie?"

Tears ran down her face. "I still love you, Marc."

I turned away, every muscle in my body stiff with anger. "You don't betray someone you love. You protect them." She called after me, her voice trembling, but I didn't stop.I didn't look back. Back at the apartment, I played the video again.

Not because I wanted to. Because I had to.

Every word, every smirk, every lie Korex stitched into his twisted little game-I memorized it. I felt it burn into me, into everything I'd once believed about Sophie.

I didn't call Maurice. Not yet. I needed a plan. I sent the video to Raymond, our manager. Five minutes later, he called.

"We can use this," he said. "It'll ruin Sophie. And save you. Maybe even Maurice."

I hesitated. Was I really about to trade Sophie's dignity for redemption?

Raymond sighed like he was lighting a cigarette through the phone.

"You already took the fall. Now it's their turn." The next day, I went to Korex's studio. Not to fight. Not to argue.To negotiate.He looked surprised to see me.

"Well, if it isn't the golden twin," he smirked, pouring himself a drink. "I'm here to make a deal." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening." "Delete everything. All of it. The footage. The backups. Walk away. And I won't release this." I slid my phone across the table.

The screen lit up. Sophie's face. His voice. The betrayal.

Korex's expression changed. Just a flicker-but it was there. "You're bluffing," he said. I smiled coldly. "Try me." He picked up the phone. Watched for twenty seconds. Then slammed it down.

"You really think this clears your name?"

"I don't care about my name anymore. I care about ending this war."

He poured more whiskey. "And if I say no?" I leaned forward. "Then I burn everything. Yours. Mine. Hers. We all go down." Korex stared at me. Then he laughed, shaking his head. "Damn, Marc. You finally grew up."

The next morning, the videos disappeared from every gossip blog.

No more leaks. No more whispers. But silence didn't mean peace.

Maurice still hadn't called.

I sat on the rooftop in Belleville, watching the lights flicker across the skyline like broken promises. My mother used to say Paris could swallow you whole if you let it.

Maybe she was right. The rooftop door creaked open. Maurice stepped out, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes tired.

He looked like he hadn't slept in days. "I saw the interview," he said quietly. I stood. "And?" He shrugged. "It wasn't enough."

I nodded. "I know." He walked toward me.

"But it was a start." Hope cracked somewhere deep in my chest. Fragile.Real.

"I'm not ready to sing again," he added.

"Then let's talk." He looked up. "About what?" "About how we stop being twins on paper and start being brothers again."

He didn't smile. But he didn't leave either.

We sat. We talked. All night. It wasn't magic. But it was something. Three days later, a letter arrived. No stamp. No return address.

Just one line written in ink that bled slightly on the page:

"You think you've won. But this story isn't over." Taped to the back was a photo.

Me. Maurice. And our mother But it wasn't from the past. It was recent. None of us knew who had taken it.

Maurice POV

I knew something was off the second I walked into the studio. Marc's jacket was flung over a chair, and his phone was buzzing nonstop. But he wasn't there. That was the problem. Marc never left his phone. Not even to pee. Not when Rosalie was calling. And especially not after the Korex livestream had blown up online.

The silence pressed on my chest like a weight. I sat at the keyboard and pressed one key. Just one. The sound rang hollow.

I hadn't seen Sophie in two days. Not since she told me she needed time to "clear her head." I tried calling, but she didn't pick up.

My heart was doing that thing again-squeezing in strange places, like it couldn't decide if it was scared or angry.

That's when the door creaked open. Marc walked in slowly. Eyes red. No sunglasses. No jokes. Just a haunted look I hadn't seen since our mother died.

"We need to talk," he said. I nodded, bracing myself. He threw his phone onto the table. "Korex is lying. I didn't believe it at first, but he's just trying to wreck us."

"And Rosalie?" I asked. He hesitated. "She said it wasn't true. But... I don't know anymore. I want to believe her. But I see how she looks at you sometimes."

My chest burned. "Marc, are you hearing yourself?"

His voice cracked. "I'm scared, Maurice. I feel like everything's falling apart. Us. The music. Her. I don't know how to hold it together anymore." This wasn't the brother who always knew what to say. This was a man unraveling. I stood, unsure whether to hug him or hit him. Then his phone buzzed again.

One message From Sophie. "We need to talk. It's about Rosalie."

Maurice glanced at me, then at the message. His expression

shifted-tightened. "What does she mean?" he asked.

I didn't have an answer. But I had a feeling we were about to find out. And whatever it was...it would sting.