If the paparazzi in Paris could attend this late-night police investigation meeting.
Then the headline of Paris's gossip magazine on the following day would definitely read -
[Interpol Captain Arrests Thief in France; Finds Long-lost Biological Children Among Suspects!]
...
This headline must have cycled through the minds of the Paris police dozens of times.
Only then did Hank Clegg's face regain his composure.
He sat down and waved his hand indifferently: "Proceed."
Dawn broke...
The tireless criminal investigation was still ongoing.
In that small villa in the suburbs of Paris, an old guest was welcomed.
"Lucas Douglas!" The moment the door opened, Mateo threw himself onto him, clinging like a koala.
Standing outside the door, the man had short jet-black hair, but his long, refined eyelashes and the ink blue of his eyes betrayed his mixed-race genes.
The sunlight shone on his head and trickled down his straight nose, sketching an enchanting facial outline.
His face had the softness of an Asian, but his eyes were as passionate as a Frenchman's, and his voice was pleasingly clear, as pure as the sunlight at this moment.
He ruffled Mateo's hair, smiling: "Lady Mateo, how have your mom and Michael been while I was away?"
Mateo pointed towards the kitchen: "Mommy is over there, will Lucas be wooing her and becoming our daddy?"
Lucas Douglas pinched Mateo's face, smiled helplessly and made his way alone towards the kitchen.
Victoria Talkington was preparing her latest elaborate cuisine, her eyes lit up at the sight of Lucas Douglas.
"You're back?"
When she smiled, her eyes twinkled like crescents, melting hearts easily.
Lucas Douglas walked over, examining Victoria at close range.
She looked exactly the same as when he had first met her seven years ago...
Still as lively and beautiful, her smile sweet, innocent and endearing.
Of the terrifying airplane incident seven years ago, only Lucas Douglas and Victoria survived.
Victoria suffered a severe head injury, which led to memory loss and turned many past events into a blur in her mind.
Her intelligence was very unstable, sometimes superb, sometimes as naive as a baby's.
Yet, she managed to send out a crucial distress signal in the vast Atlantic Ocean, thanks to her subconscious familiarity with code signals.
After the two were rescued.
Lucas Douglas brought her to Paris, and not long after realized she was pregnant.
Who was the father of the child?
Victoria had no recollection.
However, that didn't matter. Since the moment he escaped from the disaster with her, Lucas Douglas had made a vow to take care of her for the rest of her life.
Her forgetfulness, her child, and even her disastrous cooking, he would accept them all.
Although for some reasons he couldn't marry nor have a child.
But if anyone in this world tried to harm Victoria or the baby in the slightest, they would have to step over his dead body!
But... But...
However, when Lucas Douglas saw the oil painting serving as a foot pad under the table, his bright eyes couldn't help twitching...
Oh my goodness!
What did he just see?
Kai Malcolm's Water Lilies!
It was actually being used by Mommy Victoria as a foot pad for the table!
Lucas Douglas was practically weeping as he knelt down and carefully removed the painting of priceless value.
Victoria immediately exclaimed, "Oh, the table is a little wobbly. Don't move it!"
Just as carefully, Lucas Douglas picked up a plate and placed it under the table.
He held the painting, speaking in a teary tone to Victoria, "I'm off to see Michael."
Michael was still drawing in the art studio.
Lucas Douglas placed Monet's water lily painting to one side and asked Michael in disbelief, "Young sir, don't tell me this thing your mom is using as a table leg is a real piece?"
Michael nodded, "Yes, I've memorised all the paintings. There's no need to look at the originals anymore. Mom needed it, so let's make good use of it."
Pfft—
Lucas Douglas almost damaged his internal organs from holding back.
Let's talk about value for money.
Both Michael and Mateo were the same, their pampering towards their glamorous-beyond-belief mother was limitless.
If she raised a hand, they would pluck stars from the sky for her.
If it was something she wanted, they would snatch it even if it meant committing murder or arson.
As long as their mother's table was unstable, they didn't mind using paintings worth millions as wedges...
Lucas Douglas massaged his temples, feeling utterly defeated.
Not so long after Michael and Mateo were born, Douglas simply thought that these two little tykes were just a tad bit more responsive, active, and had better mimicking skills than children of the same age.
But as they grew up, Douglas gradually realised that Victoria had given birth to two terrifyingly talented children.
The young Michael at only two years old could listen to Douglas' operations code and contact signals whilst sitting far away stacking blocks, memorising all of it.
And whenever he wasn't around, Michael would secretly chat with Douglas' organisation contacts in his tone.
Mateo, who was only a few minutes older than Michael, could move around like an acrobat, able to deftly scale walls and flip across buildings.
Not wanting to waste such talent, Douglas started tailored training for both children.
Therefore, when Michael and Mateo were four, they successfully stole a famous painting from the Louvre under Douglas' command.
In the last two years, the Louvre's security levels had steadily increased while Michael and Mateo's abilities continued to evolve.
Reflecting on these abilities and artistry, Douglas thought that perhaps the only person in the world who may have had a similar prowess at a young age was his rival, Hank Clegg, the Interpol's captain.
But could Michael and Mateo possibly be Hank Clegg's children?
Impossible.
Although Mateo's brows and eyes did seem to bear some resemblance to Hank Clegg's.
But Douglas had shown Victoria a photo of Hank Clegg before.
All Victoria nonchalantly said was, "Who is this?"
If he were the father of her children, there's no way Victoria wouldn't remember him. After all, she still remembered her own name and all the nasty relatives she had.
Her genius in cryptography had not diminished due to her brain injury.
No, Mateo and Michael could absolutely not be Hank Clegg's children.
Meanwhile, inside the conference hall at the Paris Police Department.
Hank Clegg was just taking his coat off, resting his eyes.
Detective work has reached a bottleneck and the officers were tired, so he'd ordered them to go rest for a while.
Meanwhile, his own heart was filled inexplicably with a sense of restlessness.
Baby brother and sister, adequate Benjamin and verbose Mateo... They have given him the biggest shock since Victoria disappeared all those years ago.
He closed his eyes, but images of the girl baby's eyes floated in his mind...they looked exactly like Victoria's.
The boy child didn't seem out of place being claimed as his own kid, either.
If, seven years ago, Victoria hadn't met with the tragedy...
If he had planted the seed of life in her that night, then their child would have just turned six this year.
If that's the truth...
Hank could hardly dare imagine it.
His phone vibrated and Hank picked it up.
The voice of Logan Franklin rang from the other side, "Boss, I've got two pieces of bad news. Which one do you want to hear?"
Hank coldly replied, "The worst one."