Chapter 309: The Younger Rochefort Brother
The discovery was made on a Saturday morning.
Lily had been rifling through the streaming service, the way she did when she was looking for something specific and refused to ask for help. Arianne was on the couch, the Conway documents set aside for the weekend. Leo was on the floor with the Lion in his lap. The morning light was pale through the windows, the first real warmth of the season finally beginning to creep in.
"You haven’t seen any of them," Lily said. It wasn’t a question.
"Seen what?"
"Uncle Franz’s old films. The ones from before." Lily turned from the television, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and disappointment. "Not even the one where he plays the piano? He plays the piano in several of them. But the one where he plays it for the whole movie. With the concert at the end."
Arianne didn’t answer. Lily took her silence as confirmation.
"That’s bad," Lily said. "Leo, that’s bad, right?"
Leo looked up from the Lion. He typed something on his tablet and held it up: WE HAVE TO WATCH.
"See? Leo agrees. You have to watch them now. It’s an emergency."
Arianne looked at the screen. At the search bar where Lily had already typed Noah Hart. The results were populated with films she’d never seen. Roles she’d heard about from Alex but never sought out. A career spanning over a decade, and she’d watched almost none of it.
"All right," she said. "Show me."
Lily didn’t need to be told twice.
–
The first film was one of his earliest. An independent drama, low-budget. Franz was maybe eighteen. His face still had the softness of adolescence, his voice slightly higher than it was now. He played a secondary character — the protagonist’s younger brother, a boy who didn’t speak much but watched everything.
Lily sat on the floor with her nest of pillows and blankets. Leo was beside her, the Lion in his lap, his eyes fixed on the screen. Arianne sat on the couch behind them.
On screen, young Franz appeared in a doorway. He looked at the camera with dark eyes, and for a moment he was still — the same stillness he’d had at eight years old, frozen near the school gates.
The film flickered. Arianne watched the boy on screen.
And then she wasn’t watching the screen anymore.
She was fifteen. She didn’t know Alex well yet. He’d been trying to befriend her for weeks, and she’d been refusing. She didn’t need friends. She didn’t need anyone.
That afternoon, older high schoolers cornered her outside the school gates. Three of them. The leader had been asking her out for weeks. She’d refused every time. Today he’d brought backup.
"Come on, Summers. Just one date."
"No."
His hand grabbed her arm. She wrenched free. Then Alex was there — and Gilbert, appearing from nowhere, stepping between her and the boys.
"Walk away," Alex said.
The leader laughed. The fight started. Alex held his own. Gilbert was struggling. Arianne swung her steel water bottle at the nearest opponent. It connected with his skull with a sound that echoed.
Then she saw him. A small boy, eight years old, dark hair. Frozen near the gate. He must have come to meet Alex after school. Alex hadn’t noticed him. Neither had Gilbert.
One of the high schoolers — bleeding, furious — grabbed the boy’s arm. "This your little brother, Rochefort?"
The boy didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Just went rigid.
Arianne moved. Her steel water bottle left her hand — thrown hard, cracking against the high schooler’s shoulder. Before he could recover, her heel connected with his face. He dropped the boy’s arm. He dropped to the ground.
She put herself between the boy and the fight. "Stay behind me."
He stared at her. Silent. Still. But he stayed behind her.
Later, when the fight was over and the high schoolers had fled, Alex introduced them. "This is Franz. My brother."
The boy was still staring at her. She had blood on her knuckles. A bruise forming on her jaw. He didn’t seem afraid.
"You hit him," Franz said. His voice was quiet. Not scared. Impressed.
"He grabbed you."
Franz didn’t answer. But he kept looking at her — the way you look at something you’ve never seen before.
–
The first film ended. Lily immediately reached for the remote. "There’s one where he’s a doctor. Not the TV show. A movie. He has a stethoscope."
"Bathroom first," Arianne said.
"I don’t need to—"
"Bathroom. Both of you."
Lily sighed the sigh of the deeply put-upon and slid off the couch. Leo followed, the Lion still in his arms. They padded down the hall together, Lily’s voice floating back: "I still think the piano one should be next. Leo, tell her about the piano one."
When they returned, Lily had already changed her mind. "The doctor one first. Then the piano one. That’s the order."
WATCH THAT ONE, Leo typed, settling back onto his nest of pillows.
The second film began. A medical drama. Franz was older now — early twenties. A supporting role with more screen time. The morning light had shifted, brighter, falling across the floor in long rectangles.
In the opening scene, his character knelt beside a child, explaining something patiently. His voice was low. Steady.
Arianne remembered the dining table. The worksheet. The way he’d looked at her when he understood.
She was at Alex’s house. They were friends now — against her initial resistance, he’d worn her down over the months since the fight. She was studying with him in the living room, pages spread across the coffee table. She got up to get something to drink from the kitchen.
On her way, she passed the dining table. Franz was there alone, hunched over a worksheet, his pencil pressing too hard. The paper was smudged with eraser marks. He was eight years old.
She stopped. "What are you doing?"
"Homework." His voice was sullen, frustrated.
She leaned over. The math was wrong. She could see where he’d gone off course. Without asking, she pulled out the chair beside him. "Show me."
He pushed the paper toward her reluctantly.
She explained it slowly. Breaking the numbers into pieces. Writing each step. His face changed — the moment understanding clicked.
"Oh."
She tapped the paper. "You’re not bad at this. You just think too fast."
She got her drink and returned to the living room. She didn’t think about the moment again.
But years later, she would remember the way he looked at her when he understood. Like she’d given him something no one else had.
–
Halfway through the doctor film, Leo slid off the couch and walked to the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a juice box. He held it up toward Arianne, a question.
"Straw’s in the drawer," she said.
He retrieved the straw, stabbed it through the foil, and returned to his spot. A few minutes later, Lily stole a sip. Leo let her. He always let her.
The second film ended. Lily announced a snack break. The twins took over the kitchen for twenty minutes, returning with a plate of crackers and cheese that Aunt Estella had assembled despite still recovering from her fever. Lily had added apple slices to the plate — "For health," she informed Arianne. Leo had added three cookies when Lily wasn’t looking.
Arianne stayed on the couch, the paused film frozen on screen. Franz mid-scene, young, his face caught in profile. She remembered him on the staircase. Eleven years old. Watching her leave.
She was eighteen. Leaving for overseas. Alex was arguing with her at the front door. Two suitcases. The taxi waiting.
She noticed Franz on the staircase. He was eleven now. Taller. Still quiet. Still watching her. She’d seen him less over the years — she’d been busy with the end of high school, preparing for university. But every time she visited, he was there. Somewhere in the background. Watching.
She crossed to him. Ruffled his hair. "Take care of your brother while I’m gone."
He nodded. Didn’t speak.
She walked out. She didn’t look back.
She didn’t know that he’d remember this moment for years. She didn’t know a lot of things, then.
–
"One more," Lily said, queuing up the next film. "Then we need lunch. Real lunch. Aunt Estella said she’d make soup."
"The soup is already made. She just needs to heat it."
"Then we can watch one more before soup." Lily settled back into her pillows. Leo was starting to look sleepy, the Lion drooping in his lap. He shifted, repositioned, blinked hard at the screen.
"You can nap," Arianne said.
NO, Leo typed. WATCHING.
The third film began. Franz was in his mid-twenties now, a leading role. His acting was surer, more controlled. He wore a suit in most scenes. There was a moment where his character stood at a bar, a glass in his hand, watching someone across the room with a stillness Arianne recognized.
She’d seen that look before. At a charity gala. She’d been twenty-nine.
She’d been with Dominic for six years. The relationship was steady. Practical. She was at a charity gala, and Franz was there — twenty-two now. An actor. She’d heard about his early roles from Alex. He was standing near the bar, talking to no one, watching her.
She caught his eye. He didn’t look away.
She did.
She told herself it was still just a childhood attachment. It would pass. It had to pass.
But she’d known for a while now that it hadn’t. That it wouldn’t. She filed that knowledge somewhere deep, where she didn’t have to look at it.
–
The film continued. A scene where Franz’s character faced a confrontation — someone circling him, asking questions that weren’t quite accusations. Franz’s character didn’t flinch. He stood still and let the other man talk.
Arianne remembered a restaurant. Dominic’s voice, light and probing. I wonder if there’s something there.
She was thirty. Still with Dominic. They were at one of the expensive restaurants downtown. Franz was at another table with his agent. He hadn’t seen her yet.
Dominic noticed her distraction. Followed her gaze. "The younger Rochefort."
"He’s an actor."
"So I’ve heard." Dominic’s voice was light, but she knew him. "He’s at these things a lot now. Industry events." A pause. "He looks at you."
She didn’t answer.
"I wonder," Dominic said, "if there’s something there."
He didn’t say love. He didn’t name it. But the implication hovered at the edge of the sentence. If she engaged, he’d push further. If she denied, he’d know she was lying.
"Don’t," she said.
"Don’t what?"
"Don’t do this."
Dominic held her gaze. She could see him calculating. He chose retreat. Picked up his wine. "Fine."
She didn’t forget it. She filed it away — the way Dominic had circled the subject, the way Franz had looked at her across the room when he finally noticed she was there. He’d smiled. Small. Uncertain. Like he wasn’t sure if he should approach.
She’d nodded at him. Just a nod. He’d nodded back and returned to his dinner.
She never told Dominic that the reason she stopped him wasn’t to protect their relationship. It was to protect Franz. Dominic had a way of destroying things he saw as threats. She wouldn’t let Franz become one of them.
On screen, Franz’s character was struggling. His job was threatened. Someone was trying to take something from him.
She remembered Alex’s calls. Late at night. "Franz got a role. The production’s shaky — they might cut his scenes if funding falls through. I’m putting in money. Do you want in?"
She never hesitated. "How much?"
She transferred the funds. She told herself it was for Alex.
It happened again over the years — small investments, quiet support. When someone threatened to leak Franz’s identity, she sent more. Alex asked; she gave. She never kept track. She never told anyone.
She never examined why.
–
The soup was eaten at the kitchen table. Aunt Estella had made enough for everyone, and she sat with them despite Arianne telling her to rest.
"I’ve rested enough," Aunt Estella said. "I’m not an invalid."
After lunch, the twins dragged their blankets back to the sitting room. Lily queued up the fourth film. But Leo didn’t make it through the opening credits. His head drooped. The Lion slipped. By the time the first scene started, he was asleep.
Lily looked at him. Looked at Arianne. "Should I wake him up?"
"No."
"But he’ll miss the good part."
"He can watch it later with your Uncle Franz."
Lily considered this. "He’ll like that better anyway. Watching with Uncle Franz." She turned back to the screen, pulled her blanket up to her chin. Within twenty minutes, she was asleep too. Petal was tucked under her chin. The Lion was cradled against Leo’s chest.
Arianne didn’t queue another film. The screen went dark. The room was quiet.
The mausoleum. Rain. She was thirty-five. She’d been in exile for five years. The twins were small figures in black. She was holding Leo — feverish, coughing. Lily was gripping her hand.
She saw Franz. He was standing near the path, in the rain.
He wasn’t the boy she’d saved outside the school gates. He wasn’t the teenager on the stairs. He wasn’t the young actor at the gala. He was a man. Twenty-eight years old. His face had changed — the softness gone, something steadier in its place.
She met his eyes.
She didn’t know it yet, but she was going to marry him.
–
Evening. The sitting room was dim. The twins were still asleep. Arianne hadn’t moved them. She’d let them sleep, the way she’d learned to do over the past year — letting things be still when stillness was needed.
Her phone buzzed. Franz.
She answered quietly. "We’ve been watching your old films. The twins insisted. They found out I hadn’t seen them."
His voice was warm, teasing. "You missed me that much? You had to watch old films to see my beautiful face?"
She didn’t deny it. "Something like that."
A pause. She could feel his surprise through the silence. He hadn’t expected her to admit it. She hadn’t expected to say it.
"I couldn’t wait to see you," he said. His voice was lower now, the teasing gone. "Soon."
"Soon."
The call ended. The phone rested in her lap. The twins slept. The room was quiet.
She thought about the boy she’d saved outside the school gates. The eight-year-old at the dining table, his face changing when he understood the math. The teenager on the stairs. The young man at the gala, watching her across the room. The actor she’d protected from Dominic’s sharp edges, whose career she’d quietly invested in without ever telling him. The man at the funeral, standing in the rain.
Her husband. Coming home in days.
She stayed on the couch until the room was fully dark. Then she carried Lily upstairs, Leo following on unsteady legs, the Lion dragging from one hand. She tucked them both into the shared bed. Lily curled around Petal. Leo reached for the Lion, pulled it close, his lips moving faintly in the dark.
Practicing.
She closed the door. Walked to her room.
Days. He’d be home in days.
