2

After work, he found himself outside a bar again, where the television was broadcasting media coverage of Vincent's death. He entered, ordering a coffee which he drank slowly, carefully observing the reports which detailed the man's life. Journalists speculated on the causes of his death, on the colossal inheritance he left behind him, on his daughter Camille who would undoubtedly inherit his empire. But beyond the speculations, Adrien especially paid attention to the details: the places Vincent frequented, the people he met. Each piece of information became a piece of a puzzle that Adrien tried to piece together. He needed to know more. Much more.

After a few days spent scrutinizing the smallest information available in the press, Adrien made a decision. He went to the chic neighborhoods of the city, where Vincent was accustomed. He felt both anxious and excited, as if he were entering a world that did not belong to him, but that he would strive to conquer. Dressed in his best pants – which remained very modest compared to the standards of high society – he headed towards a café where Vincent was often seen.

The large bay windows let in soft light which bathed the room in a soothing, almost luxurious atmosphere. Adrien hesitated for a moment before entering. He knew nothing about this world. His hands were rough, scarred from work, while the people here seemed to have never known the difficulty of earning a living. Yet he walks through the door. He approached the counter, feeling like a stranger amid the hushed conversations, polite smiles, and nonchalant elegance of the customers.

"Black coffee, please," he murmured, avoiding the waiter's gaze.

"Of course, Monsieur Delacroix," the latter replied helpfully, without even looking up.

Adrien felt a shock run through his body. For a moment, he almost corrected himself, said that he wasn't Vincent, but something in his chest held him back. The waiter hadn't even checked, he had just assumed. His resemblance to Vincent was therefore enough to create this illusion, even in a place he did not know. Adrien instinctively straightened up, adopting a straighter, more confident posture. *Why not play along?*

He took a seat at a table by the window, his hands slightly shaking but his heart beating with excitement. Minutes passed, and no one came to ask him any questions. No one doubted his identity. He blended into the background. The conversations around him became a background murmur, and he soaked up this new reality, almost letting himself be intoxicated by this ease.

A man in an impeccably tailored suit then approached him. "Mr Delacroix, what a pleasure to see you here again. How is the business doing? »

Adrien jumped inwardly, but he forced a calm smile onto his lips. "The business is...fine. Lots to deal with right now. »

The man nodded with a knowing expression, as if he fully understood the weight of these responsibilities. "I don't doubt it. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about a project that might interest you. This concerns real estate development in the south. We should discuss this soon, what do you say? »

Adrien felt trapped. He simply nodded, unable to formulate a more elaborate response. He wasn't Vincent, he didn't know anything about cases of this caliber, but for now it seemed enough. The man took his leave with a firm handshake, promising to contact him again soon. Adrien stood there, panting.

*Is it that simple?*

Adrien's thoughts raced as he walked out of the cafe, his mind whirling between the fear of being discovered and the euphoria of having pretended to be someone else, even if only for a moment. . He had felt, if only for a few minutes, what it was like to live in the skin of Vincent Delacroix. He had tasted this life of power, and this first experience already intoxicated him.

But this game, as fascinating as it was, was dangerous. He knew it. He was not prepared to take Vincent's place. Not yet. But for the first time in his life, he had glimpsed the possibility of a different future, where he would no longer be the worker Adrien Lefèvre, but someone bigger, more powerful.

As he returned home, Adrien made a decision. He had to prepare. He had to know every detail of Vincent's life, understand his past, his relationships, his affairs. Because this first attempt was only the beginning.

Adrien spent the following days in a strange trance, between fascination and anxiety. Each moment was a new chance to explore the life of Vincent Delacroix, a life that, although so distant, seemed within reach. He had left his job at the factory without a word, justifying a temporary absence due to personal reasons. The truth was, he couldn't concentrate on anything else. His mind was absorbed by this character which he slowly took possession of.

Sitting at a plush café table, Adrien scrolled through the screen of his phone, finding out about Vincent's life and activities. Press articles, business portraits, and even tabloid gossip gradually revealed a complex man. Vincent's public facade was that of a visionary businessman, a real estate genius, loving philanthropic causes, and a devoted father to his daughter, Camille. But the more Adrien dug, the more obscure details emerged. Partnerships with businessmen of dubious reputation, mysterious transactions that escaped the radar of tax authorities, and persistent rumors of corruption.

He read an article in which a journalist mentioned, in cautious terms, that Vincent had connections to groups whose interests went far beyond business. Adrien frowned. Was this an allusion to criminal activity? Nothing was clear, but the puzzle forming before him was becoming worrying.

The idea of taking Vincent's place was becoming more and more concrete, but with each new discovery, Adrien realized that he was not only inheriting a fortune and an empire. He was entering a complex web of dangerous relationships and carefully hidden secrets. *Am I ready for this?* he wondered, fingers trembling on the coffee cup.

What haunted him the most was the inevitable meeting with Vincent's family, particularly with Camille. How was he going to manage to cheat on her? The idea paralyzed him. He knew this was the trickiest part of his plan. He stood up abruptly, feeling uncomfortable. *I need details...I need to know more about his loved ones.*

The next day, Adrien went to the chic neighborhood where the Delacroix family lived. He had dressed carefully, borrowing some more elegant clothes he could obtain. His appearance had become a weapon, and he intended to use it as best he could. He knew that Camille, Vincent's daughter, lived in one of the family residences. After several days of discreet shadowing and careful research, Adrien waited outside the house, his heart beating wildly.

He did not intend to immediately enter Camille's life, but he wanted to see her, observe her, understand who she was before attempting any approach. When she finally appeared, gracefully exiting the house in an elegant dress, Adrien felt his breath catch. She was beautiful, with fine features, brown hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, and a distant, almost cold air. She walked confidently toward a waiting car, surrounded by bodyguards, leaving behind an aura of privilege that seemed unattainable.

Adrien backed away, blending into the shadows. *It's her*, he said to himself. Camille Delacroix, the one he should convince the most. A simple mistake, and she would see through his game. Yet, something in him strengthened. *I can do it. I have to do it.*

The next day, Adrien found himself faced with an opportunity that he had not anticipated. As he observed the comings and goings around the Delacroix property, a middle-aged man, looking concerned, approached him. "Monsieur Delacroix? », he asked with a slight smile.

Adrien remained frozen. He didn't expect to be recognized here, not yet. But the man seemed convinced of his false identity. "Um, yes? » he stammered awkwardly before regaining his confidence. "Yes, it's me. »

The man looked at him with some admiration. "I'm Olivier, one of your father's advisors. » He held out his hand, and Adrien shook it firmly, trying to hide the nervousness that threatened to betray him. "I'm really sorry for what happened. This loss... It's a tragedy. »

Adrien just nodded, leaving a respectful silence. He had to play the role to perfection. "Yes, it's... it's difficult. But I must continue. That's what he would have wanted. »

Olivier looked at him with compassion, no doubt believing his words. "Your father was an admirable man, but he also had his demons. » He leaned slightly towards Adrien, as if to share a secret. "He was involved in some... complex cases. We'll need to talk about this in more detail when you're ready. »