15/04/2026: final version (there may still be typos!)The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
If you were to ask me to introduce myself, I would start first of all with my name, which is Karel Benjamin De Walters. My clients call me mister De Walters. My friends and family call me Benjamin. My close friends and loved ones, however, they simply call me Ben.If you were wondering why I sound the way I sound, or if you were wondering why I had mentioned earlier that my clients call me mister De Walters, the answer to both questions is that I am a "Notaris", a notary from Brussels, just like my father was before me and his father before him. We have a certain way of speaking, a peculiar mix of the two languages in our little capital, in addition to words from our local dialect as well. Add to that the jargon of our vocation, and you end up sounding like... well, me.Talking of my father, how can any man introduce himself without speaking of their father because as far as I believe all men owe at least one basic feature of their being to their fathers, like it or not, be it their hair color, their eyes, their jaw, and in having that jaw, their voice perhaps as well, or the manner of enunciating words that are particular to them. Or for example they could have their father's broad shoulders, a certain posture that might seem identical from father to son, or maybe even nothing at all. In any case the reason I bring this up is of course that I was offered and I accepted the chance to follow in his exact footsteps.This happened at a certain point in my adolescence, when my father had sat me down for a very serious talk. He handed me a weathered old card. "Le Chariot" it read on the bottom. I didn't know what it was or what it meant. I could only tell that it had been held by many hands and had been gazed upon many, many times. "Remember this card well", my father said, "It says that all the world's a stage, see, and we've all a role to play." He explained that for him and his father, that role had been to play the notary. "It's not a show, it isn't acting, but it's still a performance, sincere in its service. Most of all, as you can see here," he pointed at the illustration, "most of all, it's a vehicle.""A vehicle?""Indeed, son. It's a vehicle that can take you through all stages of life. Of course, you have the choice to carve your own whole path, you are free to tread the path on your own, on foot in stead of taking the vehicle I'm offering you, my son. But you may after many years come to the conclusion that you should have taken the offered vehicle when you had the chance and the support to do so. Many men do realize this, but admittedly, only by going through the hardship of their foolish meanderings could they ever have realized what the offer was worth in the first place. As a father, I want to avoid putting my son through all that."We both stared a while at the card in silence. I felt paralyzed. It seemed like this choice would determine the entire rest of my life and as a young lad, I had never thought about the rest of my life before."Having said all this, my son, even when you choose to follow in my footsteps and become a notary too, the vehicle doesn't drive itself, and there are no guarantees, even in this profession. But love and support go a long way. I can see you don't want to think about spending your entire life in this house, but as you grow, you'll learn that you can take this vehicle and still drive wherever you want, drive your own way. Be sure to always maintain balance and remain modest, because, to be sure, not everyone gets this opportunity, so be grateful, and have respect for the profession. Take it from me: balance everything you do for the self with service to others, and vice versa."There hasn't been another talk with my father in my entire life that has stuck with me as this one has. I remember it almost word for word. Needless to say, I took it. I took the opportunity to follow in his footsteps. And his wisdom hasn't failed me throughout my career. Today, I'm older than when he was when he had sat me down for that talk and I still have the very same card on my desk.You might be thinking: why should I interest myself in this boring notary doing boring work in the most boring of places? My answer is: you might be surprised. Some of my cases turn out to be extraordinarily emotional, even outrageously so. Especially the ones concerning the reading of the last will and testament of my clients.The case I'll present to you in the following pages, is one such reading of the last will and testament, of my - I'm sorry to say- former good friend: billionaire Johan Paepe. This wasn't just any standard reading of the will. True to Johan's character, it managed to turn the lives of the beneficiaries completely upside down. However, even the most factual recounting of this case will prove to be scandalous, disturbing, bloody and even inexplicable. I have encountered many inexplicable things throughout my life and continue to do so, however it's never my place to try to explain, just to witness and support my clients in whatever they want to do about it, and how it makes them make decisions, or indeed, it turns out to make the decisions for them. The only factor then, for them, in this case as in many others, is whether they can accept how it turned out or not.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
Any reading of the will is of course preceeded by the death of one of my clients. But this particular last will and testament belonged to, as said, one of my most peculiar and particular clients: Johan Paepe. His inheritance was a tricky one to handle, and to manage it I had to consult the accountant of his estate, the young, bright and succesful Ariadne 'Tjollyn. Why? Let me explain the particulars.
Johan Paepe was an enormously wealthy man, but only became wealthy later in life. He had no children of his own and had been living as a recluse before and after amassing his fortune. His estate was based on the success of his series of fantasy novels that had been optioned and turned into a major worldwide franchise of films, television series and merchandise. The bewildering part of the inheritance of his estate is that he had bequeathed the amount of €1 to his next of kin, and nothing else.
This was of course, to me, knowing him personally, not unexpected or anything out of the ordinary. The strange part of the whole case is not the €1 inheritance, but that he had changed it to something else entirely and shortly after had died, under mysterious circumstances I couldn't explain or would even attempt to. The €1 inheritance seemed very much like his modus operandi. However, the new addendum, as mrs. 'Tjollyn had come to present and explain, was completely out of character for Johan.
What had happened?
Of course, as the notary, that was not for me to investigate. To do so, the investigation had been started by the police department of Brussels, who had put a thirty something young rechercheur on the case named Van Der Smet. And this was due to the strange circumstances of Johan's death. He was found in an armchair in his house, having shot himself through the head. The bloodstain patterns and direction of the splattering across the wall behind him were all studied meticulously by the forensic team seeming to corroborate a suicide. However, the confounding part was that the gun had been found on the coffee table across from him. It seemed there was another person there at the time, and this person could well have shot Johan, put the gun to his head and shot him, right after the change in the will.
For this reason, the investigation team had reached out to me. We would be working together. This was a first in my vocation, to coordinate with the police department in finding a possible murderer among my own client's beneficiaries, but that was what had to be done, or at least, so I was told.
Looking back, I mustn't be so surprised about how things escalated, considering what kind of a person Johan was. He was not living by the rule of temperance my father had urged my to live by. He was incredibly greedy about all the wealth he had gained as an author, refusing to share any of it to anyone he knew, even as he accumulated as much wealth - thanks to Ariadne 'Tjollyn's management of his estate - as he or even his entire extended family could ever spend in their entire lifetimes.
As the beneficiaries sat down in my office, I felt for the first time in many years some nervousness, but then I remembered Rechercheur Van Der Smet promised to make quick work of the case, which put me more at ease about the whole enterprise. How? Well, here was the interesting part. Rechercheur Van Der Smet was using the latest in AI technologies, specifically facial pattern recognition "far surpassing any lie detector test", or so he said and I of course believed him, rather attracted to the idea of being rid of this entire case as soon as possible. There was one thing about the whole premise of using his AI tools I wasn't feeling completely comfortable with: he had said that he could quickly find the culprit 'if' there was a culprit to be found.
Six beneficiaries there were in total, including spouses, 10 people took a seat in my office. After welcoming them and having my personal housekeeper Brigitte offer them either a cup of coffee, fruit juice or a glass of water, I proceeded with the reading of the last will and testament - both the original and then the addendum as was presented to me by Ariadne 'Tjollyn. At the request of rechercheur Van Der Smet, I read both of them, so that the AI could pick up on the facial cues given by the beneficiaries - hinting to whether they could be the potential culprit in the case of Johan's death.
At first, most of them gasped at the news that only €1 would be inherited amongst them all. To the ones who knew Johan well, it didn't come as a surprise at all. But then when I started reading the second part, the mysterious addendum to his last will and testament, there was a collective shift in all of their countenances.
Here was the entire addendum I read to them:
"My dearest next of kin, my nieces and nephews, children of my beloved brothers and sister who have passed into that great unkown before myself, some of you know each other well and keep in touch, others don't, much a reflection of how me and your parents related to one another. I regret my former will and testament amounting to €1 to split amongst you. It was cruel. I have had a change of heart and I will not bore you with details as to why. But I do want to apologize and make amends and do the right thing. My estate's net worth amounts to just over €1 billion. It would only be right to split the estate's worth evenly amongst the six of you."
I looked up for a moment and scanned their faces. They were all hardly breathing, listening to Johan's words from beyond the grave, spoken by yours truly, an eerie thought.
"I know that all of you had reached out to me over the years, asking for financial help, and I had refused. I don't know what I was thinking, however, today things are very clear to me and I must explain the original €1 inheritance, before I can explain how to split up my estate. The reason my inheritance comes down to only €1, is that I have already bequeathed all of the rest of my wealth to someone anonymously. That someone is in the room with you now."
Again, they all gasped and this time the gasp was unanimous.
"All of my estate had been given to them under the condition they would remain anonymous. It had all been settled, today, nearly a decade ago."
"A decade ago?!" was the collective cry from the beneficiaries.
"After my passing" I continued, "This person was to become the sole holder of my wealth. This decision, I do regret. So with this addendum, I add to my last will and testament that the joint account be split amongst the six of you if you all unanimously decide to do so."
"But that would include the person who had inherited the €1 billion all to himself for the past ten years!" said the eldest of his beneficiaries, his cousin, Pieter Paepe.
"Otherwise, you can all unanimously agree to let the previous arrangement stand as is. My friend mr. De Walters will provide time and space today to come to a decision together and with this I feel my conscience is clear and a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Farewell."
"Oh, the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and put squarely on ours! Good going, Uncle."
A storm erupted amongst them, and I couldn't make out any word of it as they were all talking over each other, outraged about what they had just found out.
"Why would uncle Johan say that he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders, and then proceed to kill himself? It doesn't make sense!"
said Jochen, the middle child of the three brothers, nephews to Johan Paepe. The youngest, Kenny, sat still in his seat, not uttering a word whilst his wife Joyabel talked to him incessently and nervously, as if she didn't notice he was stunned by the news.
Then, rechercheur Van Der Smet finally entered the room. Everyone looked puzzled as to why a police officer would join the reading of the will. He promptly informed them this was a potential murder case and that they were all under investigation, since not a one in the room was clear of a motive for killing Johan.
"Do you mean the part that each of us at one point had come to him, asking for some financial aid?" said Jochen, Pieter's brother.
"Not only that", added Van Der Smet, "It's that the suicide of your uncle was questionable due to the state he was found in, of which I will inform you later. At this stage I want to let you know that I have installed cameras equipped with AI facial recognition to help determine who is most likely to have committed the murder."
"Excuse me?" said Layla, Johan's niece through his sister, who was there with her husband, Jean-Baptiste, "Can you even do this without our permission?"
"We can and we are. This is an official investigation and you are all part of it. The reason is that the person most likely to be the murderer, is the person who had inherited the estate ten years ago and would want to keep it that way. It is extremely likely they have murdered Johan as soon as they found out about the addendum."
"How would they have found out-" mumbled Kenny, the youngest of the three brothers, "Isn't a will and testament supposed to be secret until they die?"
"I guess when it comes to a billion euros at stake, there are no secrets about where the money goes and to whom", said Céline, Jochen's wife, bitterly.
"Well, that isn't true, now is it. Since one of us had been given a billion euros ten years ago and we never knew!" said Nele, youngest of Johan paepe's nieces through his brother. She was the caretaker of her older sister, Brenda, who was in a wheelchair due to being in a waking coma, catatonic.
"That's right", said Layla.
"All of this to say, for my part," continued rechercheur Van Der Smet, "that all proceedings in this house today will be recorded for this purpose. Anyone who is not agreed to this can leave, but must also forfeit their share of the estate, since the decision was to be unanimous, leading the previous arrangement to stand as is."
"So if any one of us walks out of here, the person who had been a billionaire all along for nearly ten years would keep the money all to himself, and we're all left with nothing?" said Jochen.
"That's right", said Van Der Smet, "So if anyone doesn't agree with the parameters of the investigation of your uncle Johan's death, all of the tools and instrumentation the police department employs to facilitate doing so, you are free to leave. However, in that case, none of you will inherit anything, apart from of course the one sixth of a euro Johan had originally intended for you all to split amongst yourselves."
"This is all insane", said Céline, "You set up this whole complicated operation to investigate us in our most vulnerable state, whilst you could just as easily figure out who had a joint account with Johan! I'm pretty sure his accountant could tell you as much!"
"As a matter of fact", rebutted Van Der Smet, "We can't. As Johan had stated, it had all been arranged to be entirely anonymous and untraceable. Even if the accountant knew who it was, they would be legally obligated to keep them anonymous."
"And it's one of us, here", asked Layla.
"Yes, it is. This is what Johan himself has indicated."
"One of us has been a billionaire for over ten years?" asked Kenny, looking rather hurt.
"Yes", repeated Van Der Smet, not in the least bothered by the repeat questions as every single reaction was being recorded and analysed by his AI tools.
"So the fact that we went to Johan over the years to try to get him to help us with our issues", said Pieter, "Was unneccesary, really. There was already someone amongst us who knew what we all were going through and could have helped all along and just... didn't."
"This is also correct", said Van Der Smet and at this point, I started to dislike his excitement and glee about the whole story underneath his technical speak. The way he spoke to the family was what bothered me most, as if he was helping them put together a jigsaw puzzle he had already seen the full picture of, and coaxing them along like children.
"I don't believe any one of us could be a killer", said Kenny, to which Van Der Smet replied: "The AI determined that was a lie."
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
"How do we know this is really what Uncle Johan wanted?" asked Kenny, after Van Der Smet's AI revelation had rendered everyone silent.
"Well, if it wasn't, the killer wouldn't need to kill him", said Pieter.
"What are you saying", asked Jochen.
"I said exactly what I meant, brother!" said Pieter, "The killer would not have any reason to murder our uncle if he didn't change his will to split the billion promised to them amongst us, right?"
"That makes sense", said Layla, rubbing her chin whilst pondering the situation.
"In any case", said rechercheur Van Der Smet, "It's official. It's been registered."
"And so it counts?" Jochen asked me, turning to face me now in stead of Van Der Smet.
"Of course it counts", Pieter interrupted, "Why else would we all be here if it didn't?"
I felt like I needed to clarify how the will came to be changed.If none of them really trusted the addendum Johan Paepe had sent in was real, there really wouldn't be any reason to go along with the investigation. So I explained. There was something inside me telling me it would not go over well that this addendum was mailed in by post.
"Well, yes, you are correct, Pieter. The addendum is most certainly real. As you know, our office here has been managing all notarial affairs for Mr. Paepe and he was in the habit of mailing in his business by post."
"By post? Are you joking?" asked Céline.
"Yes", said I, "By post. As you all know the man was an eccentric. He eschewed technology, even the ones in use for decades. He figured out his workflow, his way of life before the internet age, and since it had made him a billionare, he had every reason not to change anything about how he managed things. So, yes, by mail, indeed. Even this addendum to the will."
"So you receive this letter and you just assume this is what he wrote? You stamp it and it's done? Simple as that?" asked Pieter.
"Well, no. Not quite as simple as that."
"Do explain", said Pieter, leaning back into his chair, much like his younger brother Jochen had been doing all along, "We're all ears."
"Wait a second", said Kenny, "Are you seriously going to question if the addendum to the will, the one stating that we could inherit one sixth of a billion of uncle Johan's estate, whether it is legal or not?"
"Yes", said Pieter.
"I can't believe you. Why do you always have to ruin everything for everyone. This is why no one can stand you."
The last part was mumbled towards Joyabel, who had not let go if Kenny's hand the whole time, more than to Pieter.
"You don't have to remind me people can't stand me, Kenny", Pieter replied, "I know that all too well. But I still want to know, if we're standing accused of something like MURDER, little brother, that at least the evidence is what they say it is."
That shut everyone up, and now they turned again towards me to give a full explanation of how the will had been registered as legal and binding by us, the 'notariaat', my notary office. I have to admit a little cold sweat broke out, not because I wasn't confident about the legality of the whole last will and testament of Johan Paepe, but simply because cases such as this where the 'notariaat' is being accused of negligence is precisely what can shut the whole business and career of a notary down. Under our legal system, a fault gets you a "schorsing" of your notary licence, and you can never work as a notary again. I felt I had to explain to put every suspicion of negligence to rest.
"As a notary, yes, I'm the final one the approve if the addendum, or as we call it under it's legal term, the codicil, is legal. But I'm not the only one. Firstly, the letters Johan sends in are always certified mail which means we need to sign off on them. This in itself is already a legal timestamp. Our office secretary, Brigitte, signs off on our mail on behalf of the notariaat. Then, since it's certified mail, she checks the sender on the envelope and cross references this with our client database however in this case she didn't need to do that because, well... it's Johan Paepe. Then she triages the letter to Guillaume's in-tray, Guillaume is the candidate notary who just started his three year internship at my firm. He's a fresh graduate in law, but very capable and smart, so don't hold his youth or inexperience against him. So, what Guillaume does is he performs the "controlled opening" of the letter, which means with a witness present - in our case our house legal advisor, Sven, also know as "jurist" - the contents of the envelope are noted and registered, including the envelope itself functioning mainly as the timestamp. Then, the letter is "qualified", meaning, what the letter IS exactly. In this case, it was what we call a "holographic codicil". We check if it is dated and signed. When the "controlled opening" and the "qualification" has been performed, Sven takes it with him and performs the legal analysis of the content and most importantly of the intent of the letter. In this case of course, this codicil is wanting to add something to his last will and testament. Our legal assistant studies the letter to see if it checks out with the law. Then, it goes back again from Sven to Guillaume, who checks the letter against Johan Paepe's dossier at our notariaat, which means that he checks if it may violate previous clauses or that it might affect major assets etc. And of course in this case, it does. It is then turned over to me, the third and final check before registering it as legal and binding in the national registry."
"And? What did you find? It was all perfectly well and good? Apart from the fact that he directly contradicts his previous will? Might that not have triggered some kind of procedure of extra validation or anything?" said Pieter.
"It did explicitly state this was a contradiction and generally, when a contradictive codicil is made under duress or coercion, it is indeed flagged for further validation and investigation before registering it, but in this case, Pieter, I'm sorry to say or to disappoint, but, Johan had a habit of contradicting himself constantly, changing his mind about everything about his estate continually, this is why I always consult Ariadne 'Tjollyn about the more tricky requests he makes about for example his real estate assets. He might, and he has, change his mind at the last second and write in to cancel a sale, or the purchase of a piece of real estate, or he would suddenly refrain from agreeing to a merger of one of his N.V.'s at the last moment. We know our clients, Pieter, and so we have learned to accept his whims as they come in, knowing that his next whim might just continue where he left off. You never know with Johan Paepe."
"Knew", said Pieter, "You said 'know', but since he's dead, you mean to say 'knew'"
"Knew", I said, "I stand corrected. Well, in any case. I was the last to validate the letter. And I found no real risks, legally speaking. Even though, yes, I knew this would turn into a lengthy consultation, since it is quite open-ended. He has not agreed for you, you are supposed to do the agreeing amongst yourselves."
"A terrible, terrible, sadistic game he's playing with us all, from beyond the grave even. Dispicable!" said Céline, rummaging through her sacoche.
"Calm yourself, dear", Jochen said to her, "The sooner we can all agree, the sooner we're out of here."
"Technically, Brigitte is the last person to handle the will", I added, "She is the one who registers it administratively speaking, to the national registry."
"Can we see it?" asked Layla.
"Of course you can", said I, "I'll ask Brigitte to bring our working copy."
"Weren't you reading from the letter just now?" asked Jochen.
"No, this is from our dossier here, stating the content of the letter. We have the letter itself in our 'klassement'."
"How curious", said Pieter, "How very curious."
"Nothing curious about it", I said to Pieter, "This is how our notariaat works, or any notariaat for that matter."
"Oh, but I understand perfectly. You have a whole bunch of assistants to do the work for you and you just back the whole time until you need to read it aloud and then rake in all the cash."
"I'm sorry you see it that way, Pieter", I said, "But you forgot a crucial part. It's my name on the door, which means it's off with my head if anything, I mean anything at all, is not 120% correct, with current law. And I assure you, I make sure it is all according to law. I may have many clients, but my loyalty is to the law, not to private interests."
"Now you're sounding like the rechercheur!" said Pieter.
"Well, we are both appointed by law" said Van Der Smet, "That's true. What else is true, is that the will stands. And you have some agreeing to do."
"Agreeing?" said Nele, "I'd love to see that! It would be a first in our family, to be sure."
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
"He may have been rich, but he's incredibly stupid. One of us could walk out of here right now and just keep... being a billionaire!", said Pieter."That's ridiculous", said Kenny, "None of us are rich! Who in their right mind would walk out of 1/6th of a billion euros?!""You're wrong, Kenny", said Céline, "Five of us aren't rich. One of us has been a billionaire for ten years and didn't tell anyone about it!""I think what Céline is saying," Jochen interjected, "Is that if the billionaire amongst us walks out now, they would betray themselves. Whoever it is, they are forced to stay if they don't want to reveal their secret.""I don't know if I meant that specifically", whispered Céline to her husband, "I can speak for myself you know."Jochen, however, turned his face away from her as if he hadn't heard her at all. Céline huffed and started rummaging through her sacoche again.Layla and her husband Jean-Baptiste had been talking to each other in hushed voices. But now, she straightened her posture, as if sitting in on a shareholder meeting and added: "Yes, that would be very suspicious if someone walked out now, considering they would be the prime suspect of the murder of our uncle in addition to admitting they have had hundreds of millions of euros at their disposal all along so to speak.""True", said Jochen."People have killed for less", added Jean-Baptiste to his wife's remarks.I noticed that Céline at this point glared at Layla. Meanwhile, this whole conversation was not sitting well with Pieter."I don't think we should be so quick to shout murder, just because there's money involved. We all heard the addendum, is it so unlikely the man actually felt bad and killed himself? He clearly wasn't well.""But what about his change of heart? Sounds to me like someone forced him to write it," said Layla."Just the opposite", cried Céline, "The addendum to split the €1 billion amongst us was most likely sincere, probably driving the murderer to kill him so as to keep the €1 billion for themselves as soon as they found out.""But how could they have found out?" repeated Kenny."Well", said Pieter, "Ben just told us. Three people in his practice - Brigitte, then Guillaume, and then Sven - got a hold on the addendum even before it was handed to Ben himself. Now, that's a lot of hands on a document supposed to be entirely confidential. It's not unimaginable that there could have been a leak somewhere along the way to Ben's desk. I mean, we're in the middle of investigation something rather unimaginable, so it wouldn't be the most crazy thought we're considering today.""I suppose you're right, brother", said Kenny.Of course I couldn't let this speculation about the integrity of my practice be entertained whilst inside my practice. I wouldn't stand for it and I said as much:"My friends", said I, "My practice is one of the most respected in the country. Every one of my employees have proven themselves utterly trustworthy and the integrity of each and every one of them is spotless. So, no. Impossible. There was no leak of any of the content of the addendum to Johan last will and testament from my notariaat.""Didn't you just mention that one of your employees, the young Guillaume, just started his three year internship at your practice? I mean, a year isn't really enough to gauge someone's impeccable morals concerning legal matters, is it? It takes many years and many cases to assess a man's worth in the field, is it not?" said Céline."Well, we all have to start somewhere," said Jochen."I know, but still. How could the killer have known about the addendum otherwise?""My employees and I aren't the ones under investigation here", I added, "And yes, Guillaume has been working here about a year and he's doing stellar work. Need I remind you that to be able to work here as a kandidaat-notaris, one needs to pass 6 years of studies in law, including the notariaat specialization. I assure you the curriculum is quite extensive and the process pretty grueling.""Perhaps it's so grueling that they would need some kind of proportionate means of luxurious relaxations? Perhaps the kind only multi-millionaires can provide," said Pieter."Excuse me?" I replied."Well, since we're all speculating, it's to me not entirely unreasonable to suggest that even Guillaume might have been tempted, especially since you emphasized the hard and grueling path to become even kandidaat-notaris, to accept generous offers to alleviate some of this years-long build-up of stress and anxiety."I had to laugh."It's preposterous. The entire idea of notariaat in our law system, is that it is completely immune to bribery. If anywhere along the way to becoming notaris it becomes clear one is tempted or prone to taking bribes, their career would never take off or even start. They would have destroyed their entire lucrative lifetime career, for a short temporary windfall.""And may I ask why a notaris wouldn't be tempted? Doesn't everyone have a price?""No. They don't. Who in their right mind would jeopardize a secure lifelong position with a considerable income, by accepting a bribe, the one thing they are meant to never ever do.""And how much do you earn, then, that this is totally out of the realm of possibility for you?" asked Pieter."I... Well, 20 000 euros, give or take. But you have to consider that to open a notariaat every young starting notary has to take out a loan to be able to legally open one, a loan of a couple million euros we're paying back during our career.""Aha!", said Pieter, "Already I can see some cracks in the mirror there. A loan of a couple of million just to set up practice? It seems to me this is something a wealthy billionaire could help you clear out of your way with the snap of their fingers.""Not so fast, Pieter, you think paying off a million-euro loan to the bank for opening a notariaat suddenly wouldn't trigger some kind of suspicion? And besides, since you're coming after my protégé Guillaume, it's important to remind you that he is only a kandidaat-notaris, and hasn't set up his own notariaat yet, or even for the considerable future, since he needs after his three years of internship here to pass the national exam too. And even after that, he would need to wait for another notariaat to close -""You mean: wait for another old notaris to die?""Well, basically, yes if you want to put it so crudely. But the number of notarissen across the country is limited by the government and appointed by the King himself. So you can't just up and start one even if you passed all of these hurdles.""Get to the point, Ben. You're saying Guillaume hasn't taken out a million euro loan, so he's immaculate! We get it. However. You have,” Céline suddenly said with eyes like knives. It startled me for a moment because, I had been there when they had bought their house, their plot of land, and I had been there to help with the sale, the deed, the buying of the apartment they live in now, everything. I thought we did have a friendship between us.However, they were under investigation for murder, and this changes things. People. I replied: "Which has been paid off for many years now. I have held my practice for many decades, storied career and all. As you and your husband well know. I hope that all my help with the deeds over the years have proven to you my integrity. Or did it not?""It has", said she, looking away in shame, "I'm sorry, I spoke too fast. It's all just too much for me to take. Everything's so unexpected.""But I agree with Céline", said Pieter, "It seems to me if everyone in this room's integrity is put under suspicion, it would only be fair to apply that to literally everyone in the room, including you, Ben. And just because someone had studied ad university for many years, doesn’t make them a more righteous of a person than someone who hasn’t. It doesn’t sit well with me. And how about your guy Sven? And Brigitte? You can’t exclude the possibility.”“No I can’t. But that doesn’t make it a positive.”“Alright. Well, let’s hear it then. Did you have any other explanation as to how someone other than Johan and people at your practice would know about this addendum, triggering the murderer to end Johan's life?""I do", I said, "And it's really quite simple.""Do enlighten us some more", said Pieter, crossing his arms."The only possible other way is that Johan had told someone in his private environs."“And who could that have been?” said Pieter.“Well, the only option is that one of his house staff would have known.”It was at this moment that Joyabel had started to cough. Kenny handed her some lemonade.“OK, so where are they?”“They have been questioned,” said rechercheur Van Der Smet, “They have been ruled out as possible culprits.”“Oh, so we’re just supposed to take your word for it?” asked Pieter and threw up his hands, “This is a joke. Om zot van te komen.”“I assure you the only possible culprit is present here in this room.”It seemed like everyone in the room agreed with Pieter, and I had expected them all to walk out. But then Jochen, who had been following everything with hawkish eyes, asked:"Just to be clear about the timeline, Ben and Mr. Van Der Smet-" said Jochen."Rechercheur", said Van Der Smet."Rechercheur..." added Jochen with a sigh, "In between the time the addendum was written, posted, received and filed in the national registry, uncle Johan was killed. How long of a window does this create?""A couple of days.""Yes", I agreed with Van Der Smet, "Two days to be exact between the day noted on the addendum itself, and the day it was signed off as certified mail by Brigitte here at the practice.""Two days..." said Jochen, "Two days that the murderer could have thought out his plan to kill Johan and get away with it."Everyone was looking puzzled as the atmosphere in the room turned colder and colder. Each of them was looking at each other with ever increasing suspicion, changing their posture, their voices, their expressions. Van Der Smet's cameras all the while recorded every little part of this. His plan to register all the reactions to the reading of the will to add to the AI's calculations of who the culprit might be, seemed to be working smoothly. From a notaris' point of view however, things weren't going so well."Well, I don't know and I don't care anymore", cried Pieter now, raising his voice, "As for me. I'm not taking part in this anymore.”Everyone stared at Pieter in shock as he got up from the table. Standing up and looking at everyone's expression, he suddenly froze into place."Guys, why are you looking at me like that."For a moment it seemed like no one would speak, but then Layla finally broke the silence."After what we just discussed, you would just up and walk out?""So what?""Unbelievable!" Cried Céline, “After all that, he really would leave us with nothing. Unconsciounable.”"That's hardly a crime, now is it?" said Jochen."But the murder is," said Rechercheur Van Der Smet."Rechercheur, this is all just speculation. Even if the secret billionaire has the highest likelihood of being the murderer, doesn't make them a murderer. MURDER is what makes them a murderer", said Pieter, putting on his coat."That's why it's called in investigation, Pieter," said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "And you're not making your score any better, right now.""I don't care about your stupid score!" said Pieter, throwing on his scarf, ready to step out."You can't really mean it, brother," cried Jochen, "You would just walk out of here, destroying all our chances to get 1/6th of a billion euros?""Is it so hard for you to imagine someone being satisfied with their lives without being rich?" replied Pieter."Oh of course, I forgot," mumbled Céline sarcastically, "You don't have to work for your money. Just marry someone for a year and have them pay you out of their own house they bought with their own money."“How dare you bring that up, Céline! As Ben himself knows well, I wanted to buy a house with Mathieu and pay a shared mortgage fair and square! But he insisted he wanted to keep his house he was paying a mortage on. And since I was going to pay the mortgage now on that house, he waived his ‘recht op terugname’ after we got married since we considered it our house, not just his. So... Yeah. He had to buy me out. Jealous, Céline? He’s the one that wanted to divorce me, not the other way around!”“Oh, I bet”, said Céline snarkily, “I don’t doubt it for a minute he was the one wanting to divorce you.”"You're a shallow woman, Céline!" shouted Pieter, "That's it. You guys enjoy the rest of the investigation. I'm out.""Sometimes it isn't just about you", Jochen rebutted, now standing up from his chair too, "This time you can finally really do some good for us, just by staying...""Finally?" repeated Pieter, "so I've never done you any good, brother?"Céline caught this immediately and stood up at her husband's defense, saying:"Honestly Pieter, riddle me this. How is it that you always seem to get by, but you never seem to have any real job?"Jochen turned to her and said: "Céline, you're not helping.""I don't need to riddle you anything. Just what is it you're saying", said Pieter now, fuming."Can you blame me? Didn't you say yourself just now we're all being investigated and all is fair?"No one disagreed with Céline and just sat by silently."See? So, yes. It is very suspicious, Pieter. And now, on top of that, you would just walk out of potentially millions and millions of euros? Come on! You're the secret billionaire, aren't you?"Now Pieter had become completely red in the face. He pointed his finger at Céline in return and shouted: "You think I have 1 billion euros?!"At this point, Nele turned to me and asked if she could get a coffee of a water and perhaps a biscuit or a piece of fruit for her wheelchaired sister Brenda. I called for Brigitte and waited. Meanwhile, the conversation between the rest of Johan's next of kin was getting even more heated."Well, you do seem very eager to walk away from it. It doesn't make any sense!" said Céline."I agree", said Layla."Céline", shouted Pieter, "You have waited years for a reason to throw me under the bus. Now you have it! But I'm sorry to disappoint! I haven't a billion euros. And I'm not interested in procuring millions for any of you either if you keep insulting me like this!""Guys, calm down", yelled Kenny, "Let's think about this!"But the shouting match between Jochen, Céline and Pieter continued. Meanwhile, Brigitte had come in with refreshments. Nele thanked me. Poor girl, she and her mother had tended to Brenda most of their lives, until her mother eventually died - her father died years before - and left the care of Brenda completely in her hands. With a voice as soft as a flower petal, she asked if she could have some of the fruit on the platter.I said: "Of course. Take as much as you like."Brigitte provided a little plate with a banana and an apple, and a little 'office' knife, so she could cut up a banana in bitesize pieces to feed her sister. Nele was totally unaffected by the whole shouting match, calmly cutting the fruit."It IS art and I'm NOT going to discuss any of this any longer with you, Céline", Pieter went on, still as red as a tomato.At this point, Jochen had been sidelined in the discussion, as he was only trying to get Céline to calm down."You're despicable!" she shouted, "Even if you don't want anything to do with the money, sit yourself back down for our sakes! Some of us really need it! You know we had to... sell... because of..."At this point her shouting had turned into sobbing and she leaned into Jochen's shoulder, who was glaring at Pieter now."Sit down", he growled at him, “Look at what you’ve done now.”"Brother, you know I'm sorry about what happened to..." muttered Pieter."Sit down, Pieter!" Jochen said, raising his voice."I loved him too, as much as I do...""Sit down, Pieter!" shouted Jochen.Pieter sat back down. Then, a throbbing silence. Even Nele had stopped cutting her banana.
After blowing her nose and the two of them had sat back down, Jochen handed her some lemonade. She declined, asking for something stronger.When Brigitte brought her a glass of cognac toute de suite, she said, shaken: "On top of losing our son, we've had to sell everything we had, everything we built, just to be able to cover for the medical bills. And you would just leave us in the dust? You're just as heartless as our uncle."Kenny took three pralinekes off the platter Brigitte had prepared and nervously swallowed them all at the same time. Joyabel meanwhile fanned herself with a napkin. Layla sighed and looked down at her crossed arms, whilst Jean-baptiste put his arm around her shoulder, giving her a loving little squeeze. Pieter was the only one openly rolling his eyes, but he refrained from saying anything to her in this state. It was clear that when it came to this subject, everyone knew to keep quiet or endure another episode. But they could hardly say: ‘Stop talking about your dead son, we know already.’ But in glancing at each other, they did say as much.Céline, still blowing her nose and wiping away her tears, mumbled: "It's unconscionable.""It's hard to imagine any one of us being a billionaire, let alone a murderer,” said Jochen, "We all know each other. Why are we supposed to figure this out? Why don’t you, rechercheur, tell us how our uncle died?"
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
“Yes, why don’t you”, said Pieter with renewed energy, “In stead of letting us all do the heavy lifting for you, why don’t YOU tell us what YOU know!”“I agree, Pieter, but calm down,” said Jochen, “Getting upset isn’t going to get us anywhere.”“Tell that to your wife,” grumbled Pieter and crossed his arms.“Well, to divulge the murder scene details with suspects isn’t really according to procedure,” said rechercheur Van Der Smet hesitantly.“Is any of this?” said Jochen, “As family members, not murder suspects, can’t you let us know what happened. Please. How did he die?”“Officially it is considered suicide,” said Van Der Smet, as if everything was said that needed to be said about the subject.“We already know that much”, said Layla, “However, if you thought it was a suicide, we wouldn’t be under investigation for murder.”This was the first time I saw rechercheur Van Der Smet uncertain about his own investigation.“Well, usually we don’t share we’re investigating a murder to suspects.”“But you have, already,” said Jochen.“And we certainly don’t tell them the details of the murder scene. They are the ones that are supposed to admit to it, so that we can cross reference it to the scene to see if it checks out.”“Seems like your newfangled AI investigation technique might not become standard procedure, since it complicates things more than it solves,” said Pieter.“You should leave that assessment to the police department,” said Van Der Smet, “And it has helped us. It has helped us a lot.”“In what sense?” asked Jochen.“I’m not sure that I’m supposed to answer that,” said Van Der Smet.“Toilet break!” shouted Céline, ”Please just let us go relieve ourselves. This is getting incredibly tiresome.”“Of course, you can go and use the bathroom, Céline. Same place as ever, right down the hall,” said I.Céline got up and left the room.“I want to ask something”, said Layla.“Of course,” answered Van Der Smet, who was surprisingly at a loss for words.“I can imagine right now that you feel as if any one of us could be a murderer and so you treat us rather like cattle, sorry to say. But that’s nothing less than what’s happening. Do you realize that if we do end up agreeing, the six of us, you’ll be facing 6 multimillionaires who... well, to be frank, might have some concerns about the whole procedure we have been put through. There might be every reason to reach out to people about this, just to find out about the legality of this whole procedure from privacy to permissions to client confidentiality. Are you certain you wouldn’t want to be more compliant to us, considering we WILL have the means to pursue, and frankly the more this investigation drags on, we will also have every reason to pursue.”As if Van Der Smet couldn’t be more shaken, for the first time I now saw his hands tug on his shirt sleeves nervously, fingering the buttons ever so slightly, even his voice started to sound hoarser.“Well, Layla, you do have a point. However, this has been approved as a legal test case and I apologize if I haven’t emphasized my gratitude to all of you in cooperating in this pilot program of police investigation using AI -”“You haven’t emphasized?” cried Pieter, “Integendeel! You told us if we didn’t cooperate with this pilot program or investigation or whatever you call it, that it would be considered an obstruction of justice and even make us prime suspects! It is coercion is what it is.”“I assure you, you have every right to walk out now, however there’s the clause in the will.”“How very convenient,” snarled Pieter.“The clause that we would inherit nothing at all unless we agree on the spot. Now why would he put that in there?” asked Layla.“These are the kind of questions, Layla, that are purely speculative and completely beside the matter. He is dead. We are trying to figure out why.”“Is anything we have talked about been anything other than speculative?”“Yes, I forget of course that speculating was your profession, Layla, wasn’t it? Before your company went down. As per your file, you had reached out to Johan Paepe to help save your failing business after a few ill-informed financial decisions. But he turned you down. Do you consider that speculation too?”“How low of you to bring that up. Yes. My company went bankrupt. I did reach out. He didn’t want to help. So what?”Van Der Smet had found his confidence once again, and the buttons on his shirt sleeve were left alone as he started gesticulating.“It matters because, having fed the algorithm all of your files in addition to the dossiers at the notary and your medical records, the AI has a firm grasp on your profile within, let’s say our society.”“I’m sure there’s a whole bunch of laws you’re breaking with that one”, said Jochen, “And I highly doubt you have neglected to also put all of our social media data in there.”“Sorry, of course we have all of that data too, but I didn’t feel the need to mention that since you all pretty much volunteered that information willingly on the internet.”Van Der Smet seemed to be his old gloating self again.“What I was trying to say is that the AI has determined that each and every one of you have a motive.”“Do you mean, it generated a motive for each and every one of us, based on our personal data.”“Yes.”“Yes... Well, that’s absurd! You can generate anything from anything with AI. It doesn’t make it substantial.”“Perhaps not, but it’s worth considering. That is why I am recording all of this, so you have the chance to... clarify.”“A chance to clarify!” cried Jochen and he started laughing. His brothers followed suit.“This is all quite ridiculous,” said Layla.“One sixth of a billion euros says otherwise,” added Van Der Smet quickly.Céline entered the room again.“Did I miss anything”, she said nonchalantly as she sat back down, putting her lipstick back in her sacoche.“Just that we have no other choice to cooperate in this circus if we want the money,” said Kenny.“Well, we already knew that,” said Céline.“Considering we’re now cooperating with you,” said Layla to Van Der Smet, “Might you consider cooperating with us a little and tell us no more than what you would tell the press about the circumstance you found our uncle in. At least give us that.”Van Der Smet hesitated for a moment and I could see him fingering his button again for a moment until he finally said:“Alright.”There was a collective sigh of relief.Rechercheur Van Der Smet proceeded to tell them, in dry detail, about the suicide of their uncle sitting in his armchair in the study room, about the blood spatters, their directions and patterns, about the gun being found on the coffee table across from him, about this all happening within hours of the addendum to his last will and testament made final. Never in my life had I heard a silence getting more silent until after Van Der Smet was done relating this all to them."Then it's obvious it's murder", said Jochen, "Since the gun was found at an impossible angle to the shot to the head.""Correct", Van Der Smet confirmed, "It could never have just fallen on top of the coffee table in the position we had found it in. However, the blood spattering are congruent with shooting himself at the temple. The autopsy report also states that the impressions found on his right hand confirm his triggering of the gun.""Well, I can't make any sense of it", said Céline."How can it be", said Layla, "That we end up being suspects in all of this, when he probably had a house full of servants, who could all have shot him. Were there no finger prints?"Joyabel started coughing again. Kenny offered her a mint."Only his own, Mrs. Nourtaki", said Van Der Smet, "And he hadn't any servants. The man was so fond of his privacy. As you all know he was a recluse. He kept only a concierge on his grounds at Hoog-Linden. The concierge lived outside Johan's mansion, in the concierge cottage. And it was from the same cottage he had heard the gunshot at nine o'clock in the evening.""Does he claim so, or do we know so," asked Jochen."Actually, we know so for certain, since the concierge had been live-streaming himself working on a miniature panoramic battle scene for his YouTube video channel and his merchandise store featuring photographs of his dioramas.""That's oddly specific", said Céline."Well, it's the only footage we have pinpointing the exact moment he shot himself. Johan didn't have any cameras anywhere on his property. He was very weary of them.""Ironic", mumbled Pieter, arms crossed."Not ironic", said Van Der Smet, "Lucky! Without it, we wouldn't have known the exact time and location of his death.""So the man undertook the upkeep of the entire house by himself? I don't believe it for a second", said Layla.Again Joyabel started coughing and this time everyone turned towards her, as it was getting seemingly worse.“Drink some lemonade, Joyabel”, said Pieter, “Are you feeling well?”“I’m good, thanks,” she said, “Don’t mind me. Please. Go on.”Layla and Pieter exchanged a short look before turning once again to Van Der Smet."You musn't have visited your uncle in Hoog-Linden for years, Layla", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "Because the state we found the house in was almost as shocking as finding his dead body. The whole place was nearly coming apart. Only the rooms he frequented were in somewhat of an acceptable state. The rest was a shambles. He seemed to be very sick of life itself, making the likelihood of suicide more plausible.""There we have it. Suicide." ejected Pieter, "Can I go home now?""It doesn't explain the gun!" said Kenny.“And we haven’t agreed on the money!” cried Céline."Well, it probably was his concierge, most likely, running up to check and see what the sound was and he probably moved the gun whilst trying to revive him or something and then called the police. What else could it be?”"There were no other fingerprints on there, Pieter!" said Jochen.“So? Wasn’t the concierge working on his dioramas? Don’t you need gloves for that?”"I don't understand how you can be so sure to rule him out entirely", said Jochen, "Since he was the only person there.""There's every reason to", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "since we have video footage proving he had heard the shot from the grounds."Which could have been staged", said Layla, “To be fair.”"And also from the fact that he wasn't mentioned in the will and testament", added Van Der Smet, "He wouldn't have gained anything by staging a suicide. To what end?""Maybe he just really hated him and wanted to kill him", grumbled Pieter."OK Pieter, calm down", said Jochen, "Now you're not making any sense. What I would like to know is what would it take for the AI to rule us out.”"Good question!” said Layla."I was afraid you would never ask," said Van Der Smet, "As we speak, the AI is ranking all of you in real-time based on your data profile, yes, as I explained, but also off of every word you speak and every little sign of your body language and facial expressions. All count towards the ranking.”“Can we see at least see the files you fed your beast?”“Yes, of course,” said Van Der Smet, “That is if you’re all comfortable with having everyone at this table see your entire file.”“Oh, now he’s asking if we’re comfortable in all of this”, said Pieter.“Just give us the files”, said Kenny.Van Der Smet handed each of them six files. Of course they all went straight to their own file, to see what the AI had based their assessment of their character on."How can you even be sure all the information is true?" added Layla as she frantically went through the loose pages."I assure you it's very official," said Van Der Smet."That doesn't make it necessarily true", cried Pieter, throwing the files away, not even looking at them."This is grotesque", said Jochen, looking at the files complete with pictures, copies of contracts, financial statements, paired with social media posts and even medical records, "How... How can you summarize the most desperate moments of our entire lives in just a few paragraphs just to add them to a score of making us more likely to be murderers or not.""It's dry fact. I'm sorry if that disturbs you," said Van Der Smet. "But I assure you it's all very much true and complete. Every single one of you had contacted Johan Paepe to help them with a desperate situation, to which a great sum of money could have been the solution. Layla and her husband Jean-Baptiste had been denied funding for their consultancy firm in Paris from going bust. Pieter Paepe had asked him to help relocate and start life anew abroad so as to escape the drug mafia he had been doing business with during the slower months when he couldn't make money off seasonal work - and he owes them a great deal-"Everyone turned to Pieter, shocked.“It’s all in there,” said Van Der Smet. Hearing this, Céline eagerly searched out Pieter’s file."Pieter..." whispered Jochen disappointed."Kenny Paepe and his wife Joyabel had invested too much of their restaurant's resources into a crypto scam and lost everything. Johan Paepe had refused to help save them from bankruptcy.”Joyabel coughed a few times, but into her handkerchief.“Jochen and Céline had to sell their newly built house to pay for the medical bills of their five-year-old son, who had passed away even after experimental treatments that cost a lot of money for leukemia three years ago. Even in this instance, Johan Paepe had refused to help. Jochen and Céline had to move to rental apartment with what was left after selling the house.""Heartless man!" cried Céline, shaking, throwing the file on the table after seeing a picture of her son."Nele had also reached out to him a few years ago on account of her sister and had asked him to put Brenda in professional care at a home, since state support was making life for the both of them nearly impossible to support."It was at this point that Nele said: "It's true. And I'm not ashamed of it. I truly needed help. And what he said to me I'm sure he had said to all of you.”Stunned that Nele decided to finally speak, everyone dropped the files and listened.“During our most trying moments, he said, we get the opportunity to create our magnum opus and overcome it by our own effort. And bailing us out would rob us of the opportunity."“That’s sick. The man really was sick. Did he really think Brenda’s condition is a platform from which to excel at something and make a billion euros? How? And how about our Jens too? His death is an opportunity to make our own money, what in the hell was wrong with that man? He didn’t have a single drop of charity or compassion in him, not a single bit. It’s unconscionable.”There was a stunned silence. Everyone was looking visibly tired. Having nothing to add to what Céline had said, they started to look through the files again, what the AI had been fed as their profiles. I could see Pieter getting angrier and angrier as he went through his own file."Oh sure!” he shouted, “Why not go around and ask everyone who can't stand us and doesn't want anything to do with us to write a profile and stick it into your AI algorithm? I'm sure it will come up with an accurate view on all of us.”“Pieter, calm down!” said Jochen, “We’re all in the same boat here.”“I don’t care. I’ve had enough. Ben, have it noted that I agree to split the inheritance up between us. I’m out of here. I don’t care if this makes me the prime suspect. The file already says as much.”Pieter got up and started to put on his coat and scarf again, this time already starting towards the exit.“Don’t be so sure,” said Van Der Smet calmly and with a disturbing smile.Pieter stopped with his hand on the doorknob and sighed hearing this. He turned around and said:“Ok, out with it. Who does your AI say is the murderer?”"Sure", said Van Der Smet calmly, "It's Céline."
“Yes, why don’t you”, said Pieter with renewed energy, “In stead of letting us all do the heavy lifting for you, why don’t YOU tell us what YOU know!”“I agree, Pieter, but calm down,” said Jochen, “Getting upset isn’t going to get us anywhere.”“Tell that to your wife,” grumbled Pieter and crossed his arms.“Well, to divulge the murder scene details with suspects isn’t really according to procedure,” said rechercheur Van Der Smet hesitantly.“Is any of this?” said Jochen, “As family members, not murder suspects, can’t you let us know what happened. Please. How did he die?”“Officially it is considered suicide,” said Van Der Smet, as if everything was said that needed to be said about the subject.“We already know that much”, said Layla, “However, if you thought it was a suicide, we wouldn’t be under investigation for murder.”This was the first time I saw rechercheur Van Der Smet uncertain about his own investigation.“Well, usually we don’t share we’re investigating a murder to suspects.”“But you have, already,” said Jochen.“And we certainly don’t tell them the details of the murder scene. They are the ones that are supposed to admit to it, so that we can cross reference it to the scene to see if it checks out.”“Seems like your newfangled AI investigation technique might not become standard procedure, since it complicates things more than it solves,” said Pieter.“You should leave that assessment to the police department,” said Van Der Smet, “And it has helped us. It has helped us a lot.”“In what sense?” asked Jochen.“I’m not sure that I’m supposed to answer that,” said Van Der Smet.“Toilet break!” shouted Céline, ”Please just let us go relieve ourselves. This is getting incredibly tiresome.”“Of course, you can go and use the bathroom, Céline. Same place as ever, right down the hall,” said I.Céline got up and left the room.“I want to ask something”, said Layla.“Of course,” answered Van Der Smet, who was surprisingly at a loss for words.“I can imagine right now that you feel as if any one of us could be a murderer and so you treat us rather like cattle, sorry to say. But that’s nothing less than what’s happening. Do you realize that if we do end up agreeing, the six of us, you’ll be facing 6 multimillionaires who... well, to be frank, might have some concerns about the whole procedure we have been put through. There might be every reason to reach out to people about this, just to find out about the legality of this whole procedure from privacy to permissions to client confidentiality. Are you certain you wouldn’t want to be more compliant to us, considering we WILL have the means to pursue, and frankly the more this investigation drags on, we will also have every reason to pursue.”As if Van Der Smet couldn’t be more shaken, for the first time I now saw his hands tug on his shirt sleeves nervously, fingering the buttons ever so slightly, even his voice started to sound hoarser.“Well, Layla, you do have a point. However, this has been approved as a legal test case and I apologize if I haven’t emphasized my gratitude to all of you in cooperating in this pilot program of police investigation using AI -”“You haven’t emphasized?” cried Pieter, “Integendeel! You told us if we didn’t cooperate with this pilot program or investigation or whatever you call it, that it would be considered an obstruction of justice and even make us prime suspects! It is coercion is what it is.”“I assure you, you have every right to walk out now, however there’s the clause in the will.”“How very convenient,” snarled Pieter.“The clause that we would inherit nothing at all unless we agree on the spot. Now why would he put that in there?” asked Layla.“These are the kind of questions, Layla, that are purely speculative and completely beside the matter. He is dead. We are trying to figure out why.”“Is anything we have talked about been anything other than speculative?”“Yes, I forget of course that speculating was your profession, Layla, wasn’t it? Before your company went down. As per your file, you had reached out to Johan Paepe to help save your failing business after a few ill-informed financial decisions. But he turned you down. Do you consider that speculation too?”“How low of you to bring that up. Yes. My company went bankrupt. I did reach out. He didn’t want to help. So what?”Van Der Smet had found his confidence once again, and the buttons on his shirt sleeve were left alone as he started gesticulating.“It matters because, having fed the algorithm all of your files in addition to the dossiers at the notary and your medical records, the AI has a firm grasp on your profile within, let’s say our society.”“I’m sure there’s a whole bunch of laws you’re breaking with that one”, said Jochen, “And I highly doubt you have neglected to also put all of our social media data in there.”“Sorry, of course we have all of that data too, but I didn’t feel the need to mention that since you all pretty much volunteered that information willingly on the internet.”Van Der Smet seemed to be his old gloating self again.“What I was trying to say is that the AI has determined that each and every one of you have a motive.”“Do you mean, it generated a motive for each and every one of us, based on our personal data.”“Yes.”“Yes... Well, that’s absurd! You can generate anything from anything with AI. It doesn’t make it substantial.”“Perhaps not, but it’s worth considering. That is why I am recording all of this, so you have the chance to... clarify.”“A chance to clarify!” cried Jochen and he started laughing. His brothers followed suit.“This is all quite ridiculous,” said Layla.“One sixth of a billion euros says otherwise,” added Van Der Smet quickly.Céline entered the room again.“Did I miss anything”, she said nonchalantly as she sat back down, putting her lipstick back in her sacoche.“Just that we have no other choice to cooperate in this circus if we want the money,” said Kenny.“Well, we already knew that,” said Céline.“Considering we’re now cooperating with you,” said Layla to Van Der Smet, “Might you consider cooperating with us a little and tell us no more than what you would tell the press about the circumstance you found our uncle in. At least give us that.”Van Der Smet hesitated for a moment and I could see him fingering his button again for a moment until he finally said:“Alright.”There was a collective sigh of relief.Rechercheur Van Der Smet proceeded to tell them, in dry detail, about the suicide of their uncle sitting in his armchair in the study room, about the blood spatters, their directions and patterns, about the gun being found on the coffee table across from him, about this all happening within hours of the addendum to his last will and testament made final. Never in my life had I heard a silence getting more silent until after Van Der Smet was done relating this all to them."Then it's obvious it's murder", said Jochen, "Since the gun was found at an impossible angle to the shot to the head.""Correct", Van Der Smet confirmed, "It could never have just fallen on top of the coffee table in the position we had found it in. However, the blood spattering are congruent with shooting himself at the temple. The autopsy report also states that the impressions found on his right hand confirm his triggering of the gun.""Well, I can't make any sense of it", said Céline."How can it be", said Layla, "That we end up being suspects in all of this, when he probably had a house full of servants, who could all have shot him. Were there no finger prints?"Joyabel started coughing again. Kenny offered her a mint."Only his own, Mrs. Nourtaki", said Van Der Smet, "And he hadn't any servants. The man was so fond of his privacy. As you all know he was a recluse. He kept only a concierge on his grounds at Hoog-Linden. The concierge lived outside Johan's mansion, in the concierge cottage. And it was from the same cottage he had heard the gunshot at nine o'clock in the evening.""Does he claim so, or do we know so," asked Jochen."Actually, we know so for certain, since the concierge had been live-streaming himself working on a miniature panoramic battle scene for his YouTube video channel and his merchandise store featuring photographs of his dioramas.""That's oddly specific", said Céline."Well, it's the only footage we have pinpointing the exact moment he shot himself. Johan didn't have any cameras anywhere on his property. He was very weary of them.""Ironic", mumbled Pieter, arms crossed."Not ironic", said Van Der Smet, "Lucky! Without it, we wouldn't have known the exact time and location of his death.""So the man undertook the upkeep of the entire house by himself? I don't believe it for a second", said Layla.Again Joyabel started coughing and this time everyone turned towards her, as it was getting seemingly worse.“Drink some lemonade, Joyabel”, said Pieter, “Are you feeling well?”“I’m good, thanks,” she said, “Don’t mind me. Please. Go on.”Layla and Pieter exchanged a short look before turning once again to Van Der Smet."You musn't have visited your uncle in Hoog-Linden for years, Layla", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "Because the state we found the house in was almost as shocking as finding his dead body. The whole place was nearly coming apart. Only the rooms he frequented were in somewhat of an acceptable state. The rest was a shambles. He seemed to be very sick of life itself, making the likelihood of suicide more plausible.""There we have it. Suicide." ejected Pieter, "Can I go home now?""It doesn't explain the gun!" said Kenny.“And we haven’t agreed on the money!” cried Céline."Well, it probably was his concierge, most likely, running up to check and see what the sound was and he probably moved the gun whilst trying to revive him or something and then called the police. What else could it be?”"There were no other fingerprints on there, Pieter!" said Jochen.“So? Wasn’t the concierge working on his dioramas? Don’t you need gloves for that?”"I don't understand how you can be so sure to rule him out entirely", said Jochen, "Since he was the only person there.""There's every reason to", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "since we have video footage proving he had heard the shot from the grounds."Which could have been staged", said Layla, “To be fair.”"And also from the fact that he wasn't mentioned in the will and testament", added Van Der Smet, "He wouldn't have gained anything by staging a suicide. To what end?""Maybe he just really hated him and wanted to kill him", grumbled Pieter."OK Pieter, calm down", said Jochen, "Now you're not making any sense. What I would like to know is what would it take for the AI to rule us out.”"Good question!” said Layla."I was afraid you would never ask," said Van Der Smet, "As we speak, the AI is ranking all of you in real-time based on your data profile, yes, as I explained, but also off of every word you speak and every little sign of your body language and facial expressions. All count towards the ranking.”“Can we see at least see the files you fed your beast?”“Yes, of course,” said Van Der Smet, “That is if you’re all comfortable with having everyone at this table see your entire file.”“Oh, now he’s asking if we’re comfortable in all of this”, said Pieter.“Just give us the files”, said Kenny.Van Der Smet handed each of them six files. Of course they all went straight to their own file, to see what the AI had based their assessment of their character on."How can you even be sure all the information is true?" added Layla as she frantically went through the loose pages."I assure you it's very official," said Van Der Smet."That doesn't make it necessarily true", cried Pieter, throwing the files away, not even looking at them."This is grotesque", said Jochen, looking at the files complete with pictures, copies of contracts, financial statements, paired with social media posts and even medical records, "How... How can you summarize the most desperate moments of our entire lives in just a few paragraphs just to add them to a score of making us more likely to be murderers or not.""It's dry fact. I'm sorry if that disturbs you," said Van Der Smet. "But I assure you it's all very much true and complete. Every single one of you had contacted Johan Paepe to help them with a desperate situation, to which a great sum of money could have been the solution. Layla and her husband Jean-Baptiste had been denied funding for their consultancy firm in Paris from going bust. Pieter Paepe had asked him to help relocate and start life anew abroad so as to escape the drug mafia he had been doing business with during the slower months when he couldn't make money off seasonal work - and he owes them a great deal-"Everyone turned to Pieter, shocked.“It’s all in there,” said Van Der Smet. Hearing this, Céline eagerly searched out Pieter’s file."Pieter..." whispered Jochen disappointed."Kenny Paepe and his wife Joyabel had invested too much of their restaurant's resources into a crypto scam and lost everything. Johan Paepe had refused to help save them from bankruptcy.”Joyabel coughed a few times, but into her handkerchief.“Jochen and Céline had to sell their newly built house to pay for the medical bills of their five-year-old son, who had passed away even after experimental treatments that cost a lot of money for leukemia three years ago. Even in this instance, Johan Paepe had refused to help. Jochen and Céline had to move to rental apartment with what was left after selling the house.""Heartless man!" cried Céline, shaking, throwing the file on the table after seeing a picture of her son."Nele had also reached out to him a few years ago on account of her sister and had asked him to put Brenda in professional care at a home, since state support was making life for the both of them nearly impossible to support."It was at this point that Nele said: "It's true. And I'm not ashamed of it. I truly needed help. And what he said to me I'm sure he had said to all of you.”Stunned that Nele decided to finally speak, everyone dropped the files and listened.“During our most trying moments, he said, we get the opportunity to create our magnum opus and overcome it by our own effort. And bailing us out would rob us of the opportunity."“That’s sick. The man really was sick. Did he really think Brenda’s condition is a platform from which to excel at something and make a billion euros? How? And how about our Jens too? His death is an opportunity to make our own money, what in the hell was wrong with that man? He didn’t have a single drop of charity or compassion in him, not a single bit. It’s unconscionable.”There was a stunned silence. Everyone was looking visibly tired. Having nothing to add to what Céline had said, they started to look through the files again, what the AI had been fed as their profiles. I could see Pieter getting angrier and angrier as he went through his own file."Oh sure!” he shouted, “Why not go around and ask everyone who can't stand us and doesn't want anything to do with us to write a profile and stick it into your AI algorithm? I'm sure it will come up with an accurate view on all of us.”“Pieter, calm down!” said Jochen, “We’re all in the same boat here.”“I don’t care. I’ve had enough. Ben, have it noted that I agree to split the inheritance up between us. I’m out of here. I don’t care if this makes me the prime suspect. The file already says as much.”Pieter got up and started to put on his coat and scarf again, this time already starting towards the exit.“Don’t be so sure,” said Van Der Smet calmly and with a disturbing smile.Pieter stopped with his hand on the doorknob and sighed hearing this. He turned around and said:“Ok, out with it. Who does your AI say is the murderer?”"Sure", said Van Der Smet calmly, "It's Céline."
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
Have you ever seen the film Rear Window? It's one of my favourite all-time films. It's a masterpiece. Everything about it. There's not one single thing about the movie that isn't on the level of pure genius. It's a magnificent thing of beauty. I could go on forever about the staging, the colors, the characters, the framing, the story, and the costume design. Who can forget - no, you simply cannot forget once you've seen it - the elegant, effortless beauty of Grace Kelly when she first enters the film in that black and white 'Parisian' dress. It's iconic, and, in my opinion, timeless. You could see that dress worn on the red carpet today and people would still think it had just been custom made from a major fashion house down south in Paris, but nothing is further from the truth. It was created in Los Angeles, in Hollywood - yes, I swear! - during a feud between the famed costume designer Edith Head and Parisian haute couture designer Hubert de Givenchy.Here's what had happened. 'Rear Window' starring Grace Kelly and James Stewart was being shot at Universal Studios at the same time that 'Sabrina' starring Audrey Hepburn was being filmed. Both films had the amazing Edith as costume designer attached for their films, so she would hop from the one film to the other on the Universal lot and back again. The girl clearly wasn't afraid of hard work. (And yes, I'm sorry but I can go on and on when it comes to film! But isn't this interesting?)Now, the director of 'Sabrina', Billy Wilder, all of a sudden changed his mind and now wanted the dresses Audrey was to wear in the film - since they played such an important role in story themselves - to be authentically Parisian! Which is to say, he wanted real haute couture dresses from Paris, custom made for Audrey, not made by Esther down in Hollywood. Needless to say this was a blow to Edith who had been attached to the project under the promise she would be the one to create the whole wardrobe for Audrey. So, this is where the trouble started.To add oil to the fire, Hubert de Givenchy hadn't realized he would be making dresses for a commercial endeavor like a Hollywood film. He considered this far beyond his usual clientele - ironic considering the dresses he made for the film are now his most famous pieces ever, since film has stood the test of time in public memory more than his couture pieces that are now only known to the esoteric fashion annals preserved for haute couture aficionados and fashion students, of which I am not at all acquainted. But I adore film!So, reluctantly, Hubert, would you believe it, made the dress for Audrey Hepburn, who had the worst time during fitting, since he treated the whole commission as a total drag and almost a waste of time, were it not for his dedication to his art and craft to only deliver the highest quality. Meanwhile, back in Hollywood, the perfectly capable Edith was totally seething with rage that her opportunity go to someone who didn't appreciate it at all and considered it all very much beneath him.So what did she do? She made the wardrobe of "Rear Window" an absolute tour de force of fashion, basically showing the whole world that, what? She could create amazing, timeless pieces from dresses to gowns to Pret-a-porter pieces, even to pajamas, that looked at once modern (this was 1954 if you can believe it), and classically timeless. A triumph! The whole thing was, like I said, at the level of genius that matches the masterful eye and staging of director Alfred Hitchcock, and a blow to both Wilder and Givenchy. Did you know the whole thing was a single set, placed on a heightened stage so that the camera could go up and down to beneath ground level to get the exact shots Hitchcock had in mind? I could go into that too, but let's just stay with the feud between Edith and Hubert for now.The black and white dress that made Gracy Kelly's entrance scene effortlessly transcendent, is still widely mistaken for a Givenchy or Christian Dior dress. Why? Because it totally fits the Parisian fashion of the time, however, it was all-American, completely made by Esther's own hands in LA. Critics at the time who did know about the feud would call her creation a Givenchy knock-off, however, once you take one look at the dress, like really take it in, it surpasses it. You can hardly call something so magnificent an imitation when there's nothing like it in existence. And consider how much Givenchy, Dior and Balenciaga dresses resembled each other at the time - and they really did look very much alike - and this whole criticism reserved specifically for Edith seems more like a personal attack than a justified point of critique.Anyway, what Edith had shown was that she, like any couturier from Paris at the time, could totally master high fashion, but with her own added panache that felt punchy, like a kick in the gut. The whole thing felt like a definite "Nu gij"-moment. And still Hubert de Givenchy couldn't care less, because he didn't design for actors whose job it is to act like people who matter in a fictional role. No, he designed for his clientele, the people that actually mattered in real life, to him at least (he was literally part of nobility, being a marquis himself or whatnot). But that didn't last long...Remember when I said that Edith was attached to both ‘Rear Window’ and ‘Sabrina’ as the costume designer? Well, she made sure she remained the sole credit for costume design on both films when they finally came out in cinemas all over the world. And sure enough, when the Oscars came around, she won the Academy Award for best costume design for Sabrina! Here's the juicy part: she still was the only person credited for costume design on 'Sabrina', the very same movie where Hubert had designed the dresses for Audrey! To add insult to injury, still peeved, Edith never mentioned Hubert de Givenchy anywhere in her acceptance speech, or in any of the interviews pertaining to her Oscar win. Needless to say, Hubert de Givenchy was enraged, being treated as nothing but a simple supplier, much like just another fabric or sewing tool supplier to Universal Studios.As the feud was getting more and more public, Universal Studios would try to appease Hubert de Givenchy. Audrey Hepburn was sent to Paris to smooth things over and make things right following his Oscars snub and offered him a exclusivity contract for Audrey Hepburn's wardrobe in her subsequent films for years to come. He accepted the offer, now clearly seeing his mistake of disregarding the wide-reaching power of film. He continued to make all of Audrey's wardrobe for about ten years. So, in a way, without this feud, we would have never had for example the iconic little black dress Audrey wore in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'. And a little à propos, Audrey was born in Brussels, just a few streets down from where I was born too, and, of course, she could speak perfect Dutch. Just a little known fact that warms my heart from time to time when I watch her films. Like a little insider secret between me and her on the screen.I have tried to watch Rear Window on a television or even, forgive me, a handheld screen that both are impressive as screens for other purposes, but... it doesn't work for Hitchcock. It is like watching a photo of a painting. Admittedly, you see the painting. You can see every little bit in the highest detail, yes, absolutely. However, this does not compare to seeing a painting as a painting, which means, you see it hanging, you see the real dimensions that you can't crop or zoom into. You can see the centuries-old brush strokes from up close and you can take in the total image when you step back, but the painting is the very same the painter had stood and created as it was as a piece in itself to be made as none other as the piece it is. And for a film like Rear Window, it was made for a projector. And this is where I might sound very snobbish, but it's true. You lose so much of the film Rear Window when you watch it on a screen, you need to watch it on a projector, projected, you need to see it in the dimensions it was meant for, and that's not handheld. It was meant to be blown out all over for example your wall or what have you. It was meant to be as big as your entire field of view. Only then can you really take in the film as it was meant to be seen.Why do I bring this up? The thing is that when things get heated, much like right now, my mind immediately jumps to places where I feel safe. And the safest place I can imagine is at the movies, whether in my film room here at home with my trusty projector, or at the cinema itself. That's where I go in my mind. I don't choose it, it's my synapses that choose it for me, usually a Hitchcock movie, and my obsession with the layers and layers within the movie and the many details that excite and baffle me in the making of the entire film, not to mention the performances of the actors. It is an endless feel-good fountain inside my mind. In my line of work, I am admittedly rather passive, because it is truly my profession to go along with the clients' intention and only when they have their intention verbalized and laid out, I can formalize it according to law, or inform them whether it is possible or not.So yes, I was there, ten years ago when Ariadne, the lovely SFO CEO of the 'Paepe Holding', the umbrella ship she steers for Johan, came in with a very important plan she was to discuss with me. What was this plan? It was the plan to save the estate from ruin. She had found the solution to the huge problem that would destroy the entire estate. The problem being, as we know, that Johan had no children to inherit his estate of course! And there she was suddenly, ten years ago, presenting her masterpiece of a plan. She could barely contain herself in explaining the genius of it all.As the SFO CEO she has a duty to the holding to keep it afloat, and not just keep it afloat, she has to keep it thriving. The problem with Johan having no heir, was that since he kept fast to the lion's share of all his companies, the normally thirty to fifty percent tax on inheritance for children benefactors would be raised to a devastating seventy percent for inheritances to the next of kin! That would be the end for the Paepe Holding because seventy percent taxes would mean the company would have to be sold for parts. The whole operation, his production company, his comics and book publishing company, his merchandizing and gaming company all under his I.P., everything, absolutely everything would shut down the very moment Johan dies. Whoever would end up inheriting his estate wouldn't ever survive the tax.Ariadne and the board of the Paepe Holding had no interest in going down with the ship, they wanted a new captain, needless to say. But Johan never appointed anyone. He never chose anyone. He didn't want to. And this problem bothered Ariadne and the board for many years until, finally, she had come in that day."Can you imagine," said Ariadne to me, smiling from ear to ear, only occasionally sitting down in the chair I offered to her across from me, "He finally found someone!""I am very glad!" I said, and I meant it, however, I didn't feel any enthusiasm as much as she clearly did, because, as always, I need to know the particulars before I can allow myself to pop open the champagne. But Ariadne was happy as a clam. Pushing forty, the powerfrau didn't look a day over 30. She always knows what to say, she's quick on her toes as if she doesn't have any time to let her guard down, which she is fine with apparently. She's a whirlwind of a woman, a delight to be around and afterwards it feels like the wind in the room settles and leaves behind a stillness that wasn't there before.One thing about her is that I could do without is the flirting, since I'm over sixty and she's looking half my age, because it feels like a joke and it makes me feel old, but at times I don't mind it and even allow myself to go along with it and entertain the idea that, yes of course, she would be flirting with an old notary type with rounded back and slumped shoulders from being bent over my desk all my life seeing to other people's affairs. She, however, is never going to be slumped at the shoulders or her back isn't going to be weighed down. She's a firecracker, moving and dancing with the waves of commerce, ever anticipating clear waters or a hefty storm, having a strategy and direction for every kind of scenario, much like I have command of the law for every proposal."Of course, since we're dealing with Johan," she said, "The whole thing is to remain anonymous."And there was the catch. I immediately protested."Ariadne, dear," said I, "You know I cannot allow it. There must be a name. Else, the inheritance will not stand in court if it were contested.""Ah, but my dear Ben," said she, even though I prefer she call me Benjamin. I don't feel entirely comfortable with her being too familiar with me, as if I don't trust myself to be too lenient with her, for actually deep down wanting to just simply do anything and everything she asks of me. In a way, I feel like James Stewart with camera lens in hand, peering out my lonely window, whilst Ariadne is Grace Kelly, the timeless beauty that isn't to be underestimated, a true boss-lady trying to bring the outside world in."This is because you haven't yet heard of my great plan to save the estate. Here it is in a nutshell. In stead of the seventy percent tax to the next of kin, I have, now that there is an anonymous benefactor appointed by Johan, reduced this seven hundred million euros worth of tax to the estate, to forty two million euros up front, and zero euros at the time of his death.""From seven hundred million euros to forty two million?", I exclaimed, "Ariadne, I admire your work, I surely do, but these numbers seem outrageous! It is a reduction of six hundred and fifty MILLION euros in taxes.""Zo is't,' said Ariadne, gloating as she now finally sat herself down, "Six hundred and fifty eight million euros, to be exact.""I can't be part of tax evasion", said I, turning red, "You have some nerve trying to get me involved in all this.""My dear Ben, darling", said she, "How can you say that? It is all just a matter of keeping everything neat, tidy and organized, finance wise.""I don't think I can hear any more of this without getting implicated," I said, still weary of the six hundred and ninety five euro reduction plan."It is all completely legal, I assure you, Ben. You'll see. Here. Take this. They are the "solutions" I need you to formalize.""Let me see those solutions", I said sarcastically, grabbing the file from her hands."We are placing all of Johan's sizeable real estate portfolio in Belgium, and some vacation homes in France, the Netherlands, the UK, US and Singapore under a patrimoniumvennootschap, so as to avoid the inheritance tax on those. It's a modest two hundred million euros worth. To put it under a new patrimoniumvennootschap would cost us only twelve percent, today. That's about twenty four million euros to set it up.""Yes, but-""Wait a moment, and take a look at the next page, here, where it says that the companies and firms, worth the biggest share of his estate, about four hundred million, would be placed under a new maatschap, with his chose beneficiary as the new owner of all his shares which would also cost about three percent to set up. So twelve million to set it up today too.""Wait a second, why would you pay twelve million today to just put everything in a maatschap container?" I asked, baffled."Twelve million is nothing against the two hundred and eighty million we would have to pay to hand it over to the next of kin. We want to make the anonymous benefactor appointed by Johan to be the owner of his entire holding, today.""Today?!" I gasped."Today. Immediately.""Johan wants this?""Johan most definitely wants it and he wants it done toute-de-suite", as you can see here in his official statement on this page, right down there."Her red nail pointed to Johan's unmistakable writing stating exactly that.
"He already donated all his art collections, the paintings, sculptures, everything, even the cars and the priceless wine collection in Geneva to his beneficiary.""Now that's impossible," I protested, "You can't just donate hundreds of millions of euros worth of art to someone.""But as a matter of fact, you can!" said Ariadne, "And he did. Natural Le Coultre Genève has already updated their registry to acknowledge Johan's chosen as the co-owner of the keys to his Freeport storage.""The taxman won't stand for it," said I."The taxman can only tax what is in Belgium, can't he? We've been trading in Johan's art pieces and sports cars for years from that freeport, but you don't see us paying any taxes on a freeport, now do we. That would defeat the entire purpose. Why, it would be the end of Sotheby's and Christie's Geneva if they did.""I know how freeports work, Ariadne", said I, "But a gift of that amount needs to be registered.""Yes, this is true. That is why you can find it under the previous page. Under gifts and life insurance wrappers. So the collections in Geneva, they're right... there, see? Gifts. Now, another thing. When it comes to all of Johan's financial and cash assets, we propose to place them under a TAK 23 life insurance wrapper with his chosen one being the benefactor after he, well... dies.""TAK 23, of course," I sighed, "the all important TAK 23.""Well, yes. The most popular product at the bank when it comes to inheritance today, so wouldn't we be dumb not to use it too? When I said it's all about keeping things neat and tidy, this is what I meant. Keep everything in the proper container.""I see. The real estate in the patrimoniumvennootschap is one container," I began to note down, "The maatschap for all firms and companies is a second one. The Freeport Storage gift is the third. And the TAK 23 life insurance wrapper is four. Four containers you need me to formalize.""Exactly.""This seems unreal," I said, "And it's all so very sudden.""I said it was a work of genius. Twenty four million for the patrimoniumvennootschap turning his real-estate immoveable property into moveable shares that then can be placed under a maatschap. Six million for the keys to Johan’s Geneva freeport storage. And then another twelve million to set up the life insurance wrappers and the maatschap, giving ownership of the company to his new heir, whilst Johan retains control and all voting rights.""That's..." I started to scribble down and adding the total up."Forty two million today", she said gleefully, "As I said. But most importantly: zero point zero euros in tax when Johan dies. Isn't it brilliant?""It surely is very... neat and tidy", I replied, going through the pages again."Hermetisch", she said and she held her glass of champagne she had brought with her up, nudging me to toast along with her.I read Johan's handwritten statement of intent. He really truly wanted to create all of this. Myself being over sixty years of age and having seen the law change over these many decades, the whole thing seemed counter-intuitive to what the law had been built for until recently, but it is not my place to make the laws or question it, simply to follow it. So I stamped it. The anonymous inheritor had been made co-owner of Johan's entire billion-euro wealth through Ariadne's newfangled and watertight plan."But we haven't solved the issue of the anonymity of the beneficiary of all this", said I, "I need to have a name and an identity if for this all to happen.""My darling Ben," said Ariadne calmly, "It's all right there, look, here, on the final page: our STAK will sign in the beneficiary's place until after the inheritance of the maatschap is complete when Johan dies, and as for the UBO data, we have already acquired the right to anonymity for our beneficiary due to this person immediately becoming at risk of kidnapping, extortion or violence by being signed into a billion dollar estate if his name were to be published publicly in the national registry."I stared at the page for a moment. It all seemed to check out. I could hardly believe it. It truly was a masterpiece, even though I didn't agree with it, I couldn't deny it... worked."Hermetisch", I said."Hermetisch", she repeated and we clunked our glasses again.Dreaming about all this, I come back to the current scene unfolding in front of my eyes. Soon, the anonymous beneficiary of Johan’s would be anonymous no longer. It’s like I’m seeing across from my little rear window into this world of Johan's estate, the smoking secret billionaire sitting in the shadows on the other side, just waiting for their maatschap to be officiated as is, tugging at a cigar, lighting up their face for just a blink of an eye, not enough to identify them, but the red glow of the ashes reflecting up in their eyes just long enough to see that they are watching me back.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
"Pardon?!" exploded Céline, jumping up from her chair."Yes, you have the highest likelihood of having killed Johan Paepe, on account of losing your son to leukemia and Johan declining to help with either the bills for the experimental medical treatments, causing you and Jochen to sell the house.""But- How- I-", she stammered, "And what about Jochen, then? Jens was his son too.""Very good point Céline", said Van Der Smet, expressionless, "Indeed. Jochen is in second place."Céline started shaking in her chair and rummaging through her purse all the while whisperingly talking to herself."Come on, calm down Céline", pleaded Jochen."Calm down? Imagine losing a child to leukemia and then going through all that just to end up being accused of being a criminal! A murderer no less!""No one is accusing you, Céline. It's just this stupid AI thing, making wrong calculations or whatever,” said Jochen to her, caressing her neck and shoulders to calm her down again;Céline looked up from her purse and scanned the faces in the room. Everyone was taken aback by her meltdown, even though everyone could understand perfectly why. But it was clear she took it differently. As if everyone had thought the AI was right. That she was the murderer. Her face changed."Don't look at me like that, all of you. Think about it. If I were the secret billionaire... the one who killed Uncle Johan to keep my money... would I not have used that money to save my own child? Would I not have saved my own son if I had a billion euros?!""No one is saying that," tried Layla."Are you guys absolutely insane?" she shrieked loudly, jumping up to her feet again, stunning everyone in the room.For a moment even the stoic rechercheur Van Der Smet refrained from breaking the silence, realizing pushing Céline to the brink wouldn't help. But then, unexpectedly, Céline said something that would not sit right with anyone for the remainder of the case. In a calm voice, she said:"I didn't kill Johan. But I can tell you right now, if I had the chance to kill him today, I would."She sat back down."Céline", tried Jochen again, realizing she was digging herself into a hole she couldn't get out of, "Come on. Take a breath. Calm down. Breathe. That's it. Deep breaths", he whispered, "You're not helping the algorithm determine the real killer here if you have an outburst on camera."Mentioning the AI and the cameras, she opened her eyes again and glared at him with her eyeballs bulging out of their sockets as if she was trying to give birth to them:"Oh, so that's how I'm supposed to go through life now? Try to get an algorithm to "get in my favor" that had rated a bereaved hard-working mother to be more likely to be a killer than a literal DRUG DEALER?!""Oh, here we go", sighed Pieter, "Why do you always have to drag me into things that have nothing to do with me?"He buried his face into his hands."We're all dragged into this!” shouted Céline.Jochen tried to hug her again, just as when they were just now doing the breathing exercises together. But she threw his arms off.“Potverdikkeme, Jochen", she shrieked again, "Oftewel laat je me nu spreken oftewel ga'k'ik wekenlang niet te genieten zijn. Jij mag kiezen!"Even though we didn't at all understand what she had said, we could all tell from Jochen backing down what it had meant."A low-life, lying, drug-dealing, failure and loser of a man, and the AI ranks him below us?! And I'm not supposed to be angry about that?""Since it's only going to make the AI rank you higher, yes!" tried Jochen."Could you please stop? Why are you always pointing fingers at me?! It's obsessive! Gij zijt een obsédée!" shouted Pieter."Oh, so no I'm not only a murdering psychopath, I'm also obsessed with my brother in law. My profile is getting more and more incriminating by the second!""It is!" shouted Jochen! "Stop! Let's just all calm down and talk. Frankly, let's just get this over with!"Meanwhile, Kenny had been translating the conversation to Joyabel, who had been watching the shouting match like a game of tennis. Looking at her, I couldn't tell what she thought the score was in her mind. But there was that slight twinkle in Joyabel's eye, as if she was enjoying a part of this, the drama of it all. As if she was enjoying a stage play as part of the audience, and not part of the actor troupe. It gave her this sense of being the observer, much like rechercheur Van Der Smet and myself. But whilst Van Der Smet was relying on AI to solve the case and regarding all the goings-on as data, and Nele would sometimes add her two cents, I recognized a fellow outsider in her. However, that twinkle, that slight twinkle in her eye made me wonder."There are about 10 people around this table and always you manage to endlessly point the finger at me like a crazy woman!" shouted Pieter.Meanwhile, Brigitte came in and whispered in my ear that Ariadne had arrived to talk about her proposal for splitting the estate amongst the six of them. I said:“My dears, the SFO CEO of Paepe Holding has come and would like to join the conversation. She has been working day and night to try to mitigate this... frankly speaking, this crisis the addendum has created for the holding and their plans after Johan had passed.”“Who? Who is she?” asked Céline.“She’s the only one who is going to be able to tell you who gets what. Because she knows what is where. You need her. She’s the CEO of the company you’re going to inherit, the six of you.”“I didn’t expect such a heartwarming introduction, Ben, thank you so much!” said Ariadne as she swooped into the room, looking radiant and shining.“Yes, that’s me. I’m the SFO CEO of Paepe holding and could soon be answering to the six of you, ideally. Me, the board and my team of lawyers have of course been working day and night to figure out what it would even look like to suddenly make you beneficiaries out of the blue. But I have something to ask, though.”“Yes, what is it?” said I.“Would it be possible to bring them all with me to Hoog-Linden, right to the offices of our investment firm? I can explain everything in detail there.”From the look in her eye, I could tell she had something up her sleeve to make them more likely to follow her plans for the estate which was of course her job, however, this was still a murder investigation, so I looked to Van Der Smet.“It is possible,” said Van Der Smet, “As long as everyone wears this necklace with a 360° camera and microphone and everyone stays within a 10 meter radius of each other at all times.”“That seems strict!” said Ariadne.“It is strict. It is a police investigation. But since the presentation of your plan is crucial to the decision made by the suspects today -”“Suspects?” exclaimed Ariadne, “Well, not a very nice thing to say to my potential future bosses.”“You forget we’re conducting an investigation still, and we were going to visit Johan’s house as well, so this is why I had the necklaces handy.”“Well, good then,” said she, “So I trust there won’t be any issue with us having dinner over at one of Johan’s favorite restaurants too in Brussels, one of the many he owned.”“Yes!” exclaimed Kenny, “Yes, please. We would very much like to go.”“You heard the man,” said Ariadne.“OK, fine,” said Van Der Smet reluctantly, “Everyone please wait as we get our gear ready to take along with us. We absolutely need to have the AI follow everything along uninterrupted. When we’re done, we will call you one by one to enter our combi after we’ve outfitted you all with a microphone and a camera on each of you.”“Combi?! No need,” said Ariadne, “I have already arranged transportation. More comfortable than your police cars, I assure you.”And there it was, Ariadne’s fool-proof method of getting everyone compliant with her strategies. Throwing luxury at them."My friends", said I, "In the meanwhile I invite you to please take some refreshments in my living rooms since we’ve spent more than enough time in this meeting room, you will find it more comfortable in waiting for Van Der Smet to get his gear ready. Anything you might like until we can proceed to Ariadne’s bus, you may ask Brigitte, who has already prepared sandwiches and the like for all of you."Following me to the living rooms of the private part of my house, I heard Pieter ask Rechercheur Van Der Smet: "We're allowed to roam around here? Doesn't your AI need to keep their "eye" on us at all times? For the algorithm?""You needn't worry about that, Pieter. Mr. De Walters has so graciously given permission to our investigative team to link our AI with access to his camera network.""Very gracious indeed", sighed Pieter, sarcastically."Rest assured we will be able to perfectly follow along all proceedings, even outside the meeting room.""Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” Pieter replied, "It's all still a test."As I presented the local beers, wine, cheeses, fruits, soft-drinks and the rest, I noticed that one of my guests hadn't taken any refreshment and moved into one of my other private rooms. It was Céline.When I was sure everyone had been served to satisfaction, I went into the library and found Céline sitting silently, almost motionless in one of my armchairs. I approached her and offered her some whiskey from the cabinet nearby. I thought she might have wanted some as she was staring in that direction, and perhaps had been to shy to ask. But she declined. She wasn't staring at the whiskey at all, she was looking through the cabinet into nothingness. In her hands she held my father's precious deck of cards, flipping through them, only looking down once or twice."I'm sorry," she said, "I needed to get away for a moment. Some peace and quiet. After all of that commotion.""I fully understand," said I and poured a whiskey for myself.She shuffled the cards pensively, and then asked: "Have you ever lost a loved one?""I have," I answered after a brief pause."You're never really the same afterwards, are you?"It wasn't a question so much as a statement."No," I sighed, "You're not. You can't be."I started to stare in the same direction as her."Who was it?" she asked."My wife," I replied."I'm sorry", she turned to look at me for a brief moment for the first time since I sat down by her."Don't be," I said, "It's been seven years."We sat in silence for a while."Sometimes I remember her," said Céline."Who?" I asked."That Céline. The Céline when I first met Jochen. At uni. I remember her well. We were so in love, right from the beginning.""You were? That's lovely.""It was. I knew at the time he was the love of my life, at 22, and I was right. Even though everyone around me kept saying you could never know for sure at 22. I had never been in any other serious relationship before. But I did. I knew."I saw her shuffling the cards again."Pull one," I said."Pull one?" she asked with a faint laugh of amusement.She split the deck and pulled a card off the top."Ah", I said, "The hanged man.""Very fitting", she said, "Very fitting indeed, godverdomme.""It means you're in some kind of inescapable situation or stuck in some kind of circumstance where the only way out is... through.""Oh, that's for sure", she interjected."But with the greatest clarity of mind and highest perception and awareness because of it."She didn't say anything for a moment as if she realized something, staring at the card and the image of the hanged man. Then her face changed back and she put the deck aside nonchalantly, as if she just discarded a used handkerchief."You know, people deal with grief differently, right?" she said."Absolutely so.""Jochen and I both were having affairs... before..."She couldn't bring herself to mention the loss of their son."After it had happened, when Jens finally passed, I was so stricken with grief I just couldn't continue seeing my lover... but Jochen. He isn't like that. He... needed more of it. That his way of dealing with it. More and more, he needs more. It will never be enough."I couldn't bring myself to say anything."I just... wonder when it will occur to him too. To his credit, he never stopped making love to me, and it never stopped feeling lovely and lovingly and he even showed me more love the past years than ever before. It was never like he replaced me with someone else who could meet his needs better and just kept me around for show, no. I pity the woman who has to go through that but that's not Jochen and that's not me either. If that were the case... I would've.. I would've..."I noticed she was pulling the sleeves of her sweaters so tightly that I expected them to tear. Then, her hands relaxed again."But no, he never neglected me in that way. For me, the affair did nothing to take away that dark cloud around my heart, that hole that Jens left behind, my son, my love. Nothing can replace that. I felt like going through the motions with my lover, it felt mechanical, joyless, dull. I broke it off."She glanced over again at the card of the hanged man."But for him. It's the anger. It's the rage. When we make love, we make love. But when he meets his lover, I think it's ... about his rage. Maybe, it's always been... even before Jens passed... maybe it's always been about... the rage?"“Ok, you can come now,” said rechercheur Van Der Smet.Before we knew it, we were all seated on Ariadne’s wonderful little bus with all the amenities one might want... from a bus. And little snack packs galore. But not even a luxurious bus could stop the incessant bickering between Céline and Pieter. It seemed like our little talk in my library had invigorated her. Before long, the second round of the shouting match had begun, as if they hadn’t been interrupted at all."OH, BECAUSE I’M A CRAZY WOMAN AM I?!" erupted Céline after Pieter had asked her to not talk to him during the bus ride and took a seat at the other side."Yes, crazy woman! To me, the AI got it right. You did it. No doubt about it. You're the murderer!""Pieter, gij moet er ook altijd een schep bovenop doen! Stop het!" cried Jochen."I didn't start the fire!" shouted Pieter, "It is her who keeps dragging me into it. If it were up to me I would have been out of here an hour ago!""How dare you!" said Céline, not listening to a single word Pieter or Jochen had said, "Haven't I suffered enough to now also be accused of something like this? After losing my child and my home and...""Sanity", sighed Pieter, looking sideways to Kenny who was sitting in the same row on the other side, and had to stifle a laugh."FAMILY!" cried Céline.As if trying to make up for Pieter making him laugh at a cruel little jab at Céline, Kenny spoke up: "You haven't lost your family, zuske. We're all still here for you."But again, Céline didn't listen."All the while this disgrace of a man skates through life doing whatever he likes, no commitments or responsibilities, waiting to be bailed out by anyone and everyone!""Oh, my God, Céline" shouted Pieter, "What's it to you how I live my life?"Céline started spewing syllables like a bottle of soda where the bubbles pop out after too much shaking. "What's? What's it? What it is? To me? Jochen. What's? It? What it is to me? Is he really asking me that?!""Yes!" said Layla, calmly yet forcefully, clearly having had enough of the bickering, "What is it to you?""I...""Absolutely nothing", said Pieter, "Except that you just simply have always hated my guts, using every chance you get to badmouth me and slander me but Jochen you should draw the line at the death of Jens. She can't use his passing to justify being cruel to anyone and everyone and then hide behind it without consequence when people stand up for themselves. You're a hypocrite, Céline, and everyone knows it."Céline burst out in tears as she let herself fall into Jochen's arms again. Ariadne looked at me. We were both in the front row, sitting right behind the driver and we dared not look around, but we did look at each other, and she was constantly raising her eyebrows, however listening very intently. She did not look at her phone one time during the whole bus ride.
Van Der Smet, meanwhile, was monitoring all the feeds of their 360° camera necklaces on his laptop."OK, don't talk about my wife that way. You can stop Pieter, we heard you," said Jochen calmly, “Let’s just all have a moment of peace before we reach Uncle Johan’s house. Where he was found dead, let’s not forget!”"Ok, agreed. But I will say that you will let her talk about your brother that way. I see how it is," said Pieter and took a sip from the bottle of Perrier in the snack bag that was on each seat."Brother", said Jochen, "It's you who chose to get involved with that nasty drug business. That's on you!"It was at this point that finally after what seemed like hours, Céline addressed Ariadne, the first one to ask her a question."Ariadne", said she, "I've had enough. Let's just end it right here and right now. Ben told us that if we unanimously agreed to split the inheritance amongst the 6 of us, we can call it a day. We're all unanimous, right? We all want our piece so go ahead and deposit it to our bank accounts, I'm sure it will be more than enough even after taxes than we had expected coming in, and it surely it will be more than some of us here deserve.”"Oh, just stop it already," sighed Pieter.“Well,” started Ariadne hesitantly, “I really can’t explain it until I have my presentation with me but... Let’s just say it’s not as simple as that.”Layla and Jean-Baptiste looked at each other again for a moment, suppressing a knowing smile and added: "Céline, it's obviously not going to be €1 billion on a bank account that Uncle Johan left us. It's going to be assets that altogether amount to €1 billion.”“This is correct,” said Ariadne, “I’m going to show you exactly how -”But Céline wasn’t listening to Ariadne anymore. She had her eyes fixed on Layla ever since she spoke up, seemingly sitting stock still even though the bus was driving fast to Johan’s house in Hoog-Linden."Oh, that's funny", sneered Céline, "Now you decide to pipe up, Layla! Glad to have you with us.""I've been here the whole time," Layla replied coldly."And what would you know about having millions and billions in assets?"Layla didn't reply. She just leaned back, pursing her lips slightly and exchanged another look with Jean-Baptiste."Oh, that's right", said Céline, now having her eyes locked on Layla. "Nothing suspicious at all about how all of a sudden you just magically retired at 35, moved to a home - I mean a huge mansion! - in Waterloo, all the way from Paris and as I recall it was ten years ago, wasn’t it, when your firm allegedly when bust? Right? Nothing suspicious about that! And once you had moved back to Belgium, you declined every invitation I sent you to join us at our family functions. Nothing suspicious about that. At all."This time, Jean-Baptiste spoke up: "I know it isn't my place to get involved in family matters but if you start insulting my wife comme ça, I will have to say something. So, Céline, you better be careful with your words. Why in your mind can't Layla be a successful woman of her own merit? She is brilliant! That is why I love her! She didn't need to inherit anything to get where she is now. Do you think she didn't work hard for what she got? That she didn’t put in the effort?""Well, marrying rich always helps," Céline murmured, looking down at her can of coke she had taken out of her snack bag."Allez, Céline. Kom." said Jochen."But Jochen, doesn't it seem extremely convenient that about 10 years ago after her Paris firm defaulted, she suddenly decides to come back here for some obscure reason completely out of the blue? And go live in a mansion in Waterloo, retired? Before the age of forty?""Waterloo is where I'm from", said Jean-Baptise, "Anything suspicious about that too? And would you not buy a house in your childhood neighborhood if you had the chance?""Of course I would," cried Céline, "Of course! I wish EVERYONE could go live in a mansion!""And also, it's not ten years ago that we moved here, Céline, but five!" added Layla, a bit heated, but her tone changed to something more remorseful, "But I can admit that I have been neglectful and I'm sorry that I haven't accepted any of your invitations to your home. That I haven't kept in touch with you personally. I'm sorry. I could have."Céline didn't look at her, but her posture relaxed just a tiny bit."But even with losses along the way, many even, everything I have I have earned myself."How was I supposed to know about that if you never came to talk to me. To us?”“I-““You didn’t even come to Jens’ funeral.""You're right. I'm sorry again.”It seemed the discussion between Céline and Layla had come to a halt, for now. But Pieter wasn’t satisfied, as if that as long as he kept the debate going between others, the spotlight wouldn’t come right back down to him. Which I do grant him, it always did.“But Céline has a point,” said Pieter, “How can someone retire right after a faillisement?”“Pieter, you just can’t help yourself, can you?” cried Jochen, standing up from his seat and facing Pieter., “Give it a rest! We’re almost to Uncle Johan’s house!”But it was too late; Céline had been fired up again, adding: "When the butcher's went bust, both him and his wife had to go work at the very same supermarket that made them lose all their customers in the first place. They had to sell their practice ànd their house. But somehow when you guys go failliet, you can just browse the real-estate pages and pick and choose a mansion, not needing to work another day in your life? Sounds really fishy to me.”“You can’t compare a butcher shop to what Céline had been doing at her firm. We’ve been able to put aside a great share of our income over the years to be able to retire.”“How?” asked Pieter.“Well, we handled our savings well and put it in good investments that -”“So just to be straight,” said Pieter, “Your own investment firm went bust because of poor choices you made on the stock market, losing all your client’s money. Meanwhile for your own personal savings you invested elsewhere, and you managed to retire off of it for life?!”“Et qu’est-ce que ça signifie pour toi, exactement?” asked Jean-Baptiste, sounding agitated.“Eh bien, ça peut signifier une certaine... ‘faute de gestion’, peut-être?,” said Pieter mockingly, “Or even ‘Abus de biens sociaux’, right?”“You take that back!” shouted Jean-Baptiste, jumping up from his seat and pointing at Pieter.“What’s that all about?” asked Jochen.“It’s just like when the butcher’s went bust, they had to sell their home,” said Ariadne turning to both Jochen and Céline. She winked.“It’s all funny to her,” said Céline to Jochen.“I just wonder how Pieter knows about those legal terms,” said Jochen to her.The debate between Pieter and Jean-Baptiste and Layla became so heated, no one could make out what they were saying, until Nele spoke up just at the right time, making everyone turn towards her as she said:"Well, retirement or no, at least Layla got an invitation to your family functions, Céline..." she said.Céline, shocked and lost for words, stared at Nele and Brenda."I... I... I..." she stammered, "I... I had wanted to, Nele. I meant to, but... I know it's hard for you with... you know... with Brenda and... You did come to Pieter's ... we talked there...""That was my invitation, not yours", said Pieter, smugly.In her calm and soothing voice, acquired after a lifetime of longsuffering, Nele replied: "No need to explain. I get it. Can we just all just get this over with now. We’re almost there and Brenda needs to go to the toilet. I need to help her do it."Jochen stood up. "Yes, please. Can we all now just agree on this? We'll split up the assets evenly amongst us. The six of us. Fairly. Even if one of us inherited the estate 10 years ago, they're not speaking up. So that means they are agreed too. We each get our fair share, become millionaires, and call it a day."“That may prove to be a bit more complicated than you think,” said Ariadne.“How do you mean?” asked Jochen.“Well,” said Ariadne hesitantly, “That was what I wanted to explain once we got to the offices, but... All right. In short, the bottom line is, if you accept the inheritance today, well, you would become the poorest millionaires in history with nothing but debt on your hands.”
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
“That settles it,” said Pieter, “Now I’m really done. Officially. And I really mean officially, so note that down, Ben. Why in the world would I want to inherit MORE debt?”“Come on, Pieter,” said Kenny, “How do we even know this is true? I mean, it would be in your company’s interest to not have it split amongst the six of us instead? To leave the arrangement as is?”“Well... yes...” said Ariadne carefully, “But I don’t know how that would affect...”“Don’t make me laugh!” said Kenny vehemently, never having sounded more like his eldest brother, “You are biased! We need a neutral person, someone who doesn’t stand to gain by it going either way, to inform us if it is true or not.”“Well, lo and behold, that would be Mr. De Walters, now, wouldn’t it?” said Pieter, “But he hasn’t been of much help, has he.”“I take offence,” said I, “I have to my utmost exerted myself to help you in the best way possible in this matter.”“And lured us into a murder investigation we can’t get out of, with the pretense that we should stand to lose millions if we didn’t cooperate,” at this point Pieter started cackling, “But that little lie now lies died in the water, doesn’t it? We don’t stand to lose millions, just gain heaps of debt! I don’t know how Uncle Johan ran his business, but it doesn’t surprise me at all!”“Wait,” said Nele, with a great look of concern, “Is it true? Is it really true? We wouldn’t inherit a thing either way?”She was looking at Céline as she spoke.“This can’t be? The man was filthy rich!” cried Céline.“It is true,” said Ariadne, “I guarantee it. It’s my job, you know.”“I don’t believe it until it comes from Ben,” said Kenny, “He’s legally obliged to tell us the full truth, not the one that benefits him most.”“I’m not...”“The truth is that I don’t know yet. I haven’t had the chance to look into the state of Johan’s affairs just yet, so I haven’t been able to make an assessment.”“Ha! But you didn’t hesitate to let us believe we would lose millions. I see your standards have been slipping of late, dear old Ben,” said Pieter, “Very slippery, indeed!”“So we might just inherit some money, still?” asked Nele.“Yes,” said I, “Yes. Simply because I haven’t had the time yet to assess the estate and run the numbers to confirm the contrary. So it would still be possible, however I cannot confirm it to be so just yet.”“If I may,” said Ariadne, “I have run the numbers, and I’m sorry to say. Nothing but debt. Huge debt. Immense! First of all we would need to sell his entire private collections, just to make a little dent in the thing, and then, a grueling decades-long paying off of the colossal amount hanging over your heads, if you chose to inherit it, that is.”Céline’s face sank down into a hanging sack of a visage.“It that’s true, Ben,” she said, “Why did you bother to let us come in the first place.”“You must forgive the man;” said Ariadne, visibly shocked by Céline’s face looking like a panther ready to pounce, “I was supposed to bring in the numbers for Ben and his team to go through before the meeting started, but since Johan died so suddenly, and he changed his will too, I didn’t have the chance between coordinating with the board and assessing the estate all over again, like we had done when we made the arrangement years ago.”“The arrangement,” said Kenny, mockingly, “with the secret billionaire.”“Is that what you guys call it?” asked Ariadne, “But, yes. It was an up-front affair, precisely to avoid any headaches when the unfortunate moment finally came around. Now, we had to valuate everything within all of our companies, every single asset, within hours. Even now, we only have a tentative result. So don’t blame Ben, blame me.”“Oh, but I do,” said Céline.“And this person who you made this up-front arrangement with ten years ago is actually right here amongst us now,” said Kenny.“Yes,” said Ariadne.“And you know who it is.”“Yes.”There was a silence and there was a quiver running over her arms, that didn’t come from the swaying of the bus. Electric buses are supposed to run extremely quietly, however in this moment we could actually hear the humming sound of the motor itself.“On second thought,” said Ariadne with trembling voice, turning now to me, “It would be best that we go ahead and run down to the office during their visit to Johan’s house, so you can present your findings to your clients afterwards.”“I agree,” said I.Ariadne sat down. Nobody had anything to say."Here’s what’s going to happen,” said Pieter finally after a chilling pause, “When this bus stops at Johan’s house in Hoog-Linden, I’m getting off and I’m going home. And you should all do so too.”“Oh, Pieter, please!” pleaded Jochen, ever the voice of reason, “Why? We still don’t know how it’s going to go until we have Ben’s final word. Can’t you at least stick it out with us until then?”“No.”“Why?”“Why? Because! First of all, you guys have during this whole process been doing nothing but drag my name through the mud without hesitation, ostracize me and ridicule me at every turn and now I'm supposed to still go along with you all? Out of what? Kindness? But where was this kindness when it came to me?""An eye for an eye leaves the world blind," said Jean-Baptiste."Oh, but it’s more than an eye for an eye, Jean-Baptiste, can’t you see? This whole thing seems to me to be more of a case of the one-eyed leading the blind! You want me to cooperate when there’s one here whose best interest it is for us all to never agree.”“Then why do their work for them?”“Because I know enough at this point. I don’t stand to gain anything from going along with this.”“But we don’t know that yet!”“I know it. And that’s what counts to me.”“Brother, you’re not making any sense. You’re forgetting they’re also trying to find out who murdered our Uncle. Don’t you have any interest in helping that investigation along?”“Kenny, enough,” said Jochen, “You can’t reason with the unreasonable.”“See? See what I mean?” cried Pieter, “Fine. You guys have fun. Investigation... Seems to me to be only an investigation into how horrible of a person I am, let alone trying to find the killer.”Céline, mustering a smile for the first time after her outburst, looked up and laughed inexplicably. The pressure finally seemed to have gotten to her."Oh-ho-ho! It's him! He's the secret billionaire! Yes! It couldn't be more obvious! rechercheur Van Der Smet, just arrest him already!""I don't think it's Pieter," said Jochen, trying to calm her down yet again.The bus now turned to drive up a street going somewhat uphill. For a while we had been driving through beautiful green forestry lined with lovely houses and increasingly more mansions until we finally came to a full stop at a grand mansion with an equally grand gate.Everyone got up, silently, as if it suddenly dawned on them that they were going to visit the actual crime scene, the actual place where their Uncle had died with a bullet through the head, suicide or otherwise.The concierge, an older fellow with a salt and pepper beard, but not so old as to say elderly, came with a flashlight to open the lock and chains around the gate.“He seriously still uses lock and chains?” said Jochen.Then, the concierge swung the left side of the gate open, then the right, and then finally beckoned the bus to drive up to the front door. The bus slowly made its way further down the driveway, to the eerie face of the mansion. Grand, but eerie. It certainly looked haunted, if not by ghosts, then by its entire lack of a sense of welcome. The entire house seemed to scream: keep away. Finally the bus came to a full stop. The driver opened the door.Rechercheur Van Der Smet got out first, and greeted the concierge, who had been walking alongside the bus up to the front door.“We’ll see each other at the offices then,” said he to Ariadne and I.“Yes!” replied Ariadne, “We’ll send the bus back here once we’re dropped off a few houses down the street at the offices.”“Uncle Johan owned offices in the same street?” asked Kenny.“Darling,” said Ariadne, “Your Uncle Johan owns this whole street.”Next, everyone descended one by one, being checked a second time by the crew to make sure the audio and video was still sending out the right signals for the AI to follow along in this most crucial visit in the entire investigation. Pieter, Jochen, Kenny, they all had come down first and waited at the front door, commenting on the build of the house. And the lack of care. Next, Layla came out. Nele and Brenda, which took some help from the brothers and the crew. But then, both Joyabel and Céline refused to get out of the bus.“I don’t want to,” said Céline.“Me too,” said Joyabel, “It’s haunted! I don’t want to go and bring some entity home with me.”“I couldn’t stand the sight of it,” added Céline, “I don’t want to see the scene of the murder.”“Come on girls,” said the brothers, “We’re all here. Come on. Get out. Take our hands.”“Can we come out together?” asked Joyabel, having locked her arm into Céline’s and vice versa.“Fine,” said Van Der Smet, but get out now.Shivering and ever so slowly, they descended from the bus. The crew checked the gear that had been placed on them with the signals on their devices, when the concierge suddenly caught sight of them. First he tried to take a good look through the business of the crew members, but then as the crew was finishing up, he could see their faces.The man turned pale as a sheet.“It’s you!” he exclaimed. “It’s you!”He turned and ran.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
People change their minds all the time. When it came to my son at around seventeen years of age, I had the exact same talk with him my father had with me about following in our footsteps but making the journey your own. Even though I would have been happy with whatever choice he made for his future, I admittedly was proud and happy that my son should continue our family’s tradition. But he changed his mind after the first year of law at university. The death of his mother might have something to do with it, but he never framed it that way in the talks we had. He never got to studying and attending the classes and taking the exams or even connecting to fellow students because of her terminal diagnosis and indeed her eventual passing, which wasn’t unexpected but the deep, deep suffering I’m almost afraid to say, was prolonged for everyone involved. When she finally did pass, there really wasn’t any relief of the gigantic toll it was taking on me and my son due to everyone reaching out and giving us their condolences, reminiscing about all of their memories of her, sharing anecdote after anecdote. She was a light and a beacon of joy and hope to everyone. Why she had to develop a brain tumor is anyone’s guess (especially the doctors) but without her, the world had become just a shade darker, at least to everyone that had known her. My son and I didn’t need to be reminded of it continually and so, after a while, we stopped opening letters, we didn’t pick up the phone for a while, we didn’t answer house calls. Unexpectedly, we found that people understood when, a year or a year or two later we did reach out to them again to tell them we weren’t up to it at the time. That was the time that my son had told me that, after taking a gap year following his failed first year at law, traveling the world from Cambodia to Mexico to Canada to Italy, that, yes, he had changed his mind. He wanted to stay over there in Turin, move into his new girlfriend and her family’s house and study instrument construction, his newly found passion. I was skeptical at first and just as much as I allowed privately to be proud of him for following in my footsteps, I have to reluctantly admit I was disappointed in equal measure that he no longer would, but I never admitted it to him because I supported his choice, especially since he had found a passion with the same conviction and gusto I always saw my wife commit to anything she put her mind to. I supported him. He finished his studies in Turin. He finally settled down there and married his girlfriend. He’s doing good. Twice a year he visits me down here in Belgium, but he doesn’t stay long, even though he relishes in the local delicacies I know he misses, but... I don’t think he can bear to be in the house long. It wasn’t so much the food as the woman sharing the food with him that had touched his heart. I think it reminded him too much of how it felt when the hole in his heart had been filled with the warmth and love of a mother he had now learned to live without.Did you know in Belgian law that only since a year or four or five the judges were supposed to consider each case according to the phrase that still is a remnant of Roman law that had been taken over in the Napoleonic code, which was basically kept unchanged after our country’s independence - apart from a few minor changes here and there, the only real in depth-changes started in 2019 - of the ‘Pater Familias’ and had to use this specific phrase in any case being tried, being required to ask the person under investigation if they had or had not behaved in a way that would befit a ‘Goede Huisvader’. They changed it now officially to ‘Reasonable Person’ and this was long overdue, considering in our country women will have had the right to vote for a century in 2049, which is in fact incredibly late considering our neighboring countries. Ours only had a change of mind after World War II, when women had proven themselves to be great forces in the resistance, whereas before they weren’t taken seriously enough to engage in active political action. Awkwardly, soon after the war, the first president of the newly founded U.N. was a Belgian politician but as his own country didn’t have the vote for women, we didn’t even meet the official charter of the United Nations that had clearly required equal rights for men and women of its members. Facing this outside pressure from the international community, we passed the law soon after. Sorry to go on about this, but this is exactly the kind of subject my wife and I would have discussed for hours up in our library at night with a bottle of good dark red port.Another change of mind, and yes, this is another one that I could go on and on about, is when Alfred Hitchcock directed ‘The Birds’. In an interview with famous French filmmaker François Truffaut, he had revealed that the ending to the film had originally been totally different to what it eventually had turned out to be, namely that Rod Taylor, Tippi Hedren and Jessica Tandry got into the car, carefully passing by a whole blanket of birds outside their house, trying not to ruffle their feathers and then drove off into the sunset together, with the birds just looking on at them leaving. That was the ending seen in cinemas and the one that Hitchcock changed at the last minute.What he had told Truffaut is that the original ending that was in the official screenplay and was fully storyboarded, ready to shoot, was largely different. You know, Hitchcock was a filmmaking genius, even if his personality left much to be desired, even to the point of harassing Tippi whom he had, let’s say, an infatuation with. Thankfully, Tippi was just as proud and fierce as she was in the film, brilliant typecasting that was, and she was always able to stand her ground and didn’t allow him to do anything untoward. It never came to the point that he would try to have sex with her, but after an altercation where he made another pass at her, he had told her he would destroy her career. A deeply disturbing side of a man with such talent to which the talent doesn’t excuse any of it, even if at that point in time, it was considered to.That being said, here’s what he was known for as a director in practice and at work: he never needed a copy of the screenplay, nor did he need a copy of the storyboard. Before filming, the man had it all memorized and knew all of it completely by heart, even though that didn’t take much effort. So obsessive and involved in creating his vision he was, that it completely realized fully formed inside his mind. So the only thing he needed to bring to work, was all that was inside there in his big round head. Needless to say, he knew exactly what was to be filmed where, how it would be staged, set up, where the cameras should face, absolutely everything. And all of this he did without any obstructions, distractions, delays due to cross-checking with a storyboard or screenplay. Whenever an actor would fumble a line, he would be the one to immediately give them the line, but also give them at the same time the direction, notes on voice, the context, the effect on film, just everything at once that now takes several people on set to achieve.However, nearing the end of the shoot of ‘The Birds,” he told Truffaut in the interview, for the first time in his film career, he would stray from the previously conceived vision during filming. He told Truffaut that his vision of the ending had changed in the process and he felt like the ending would not have the desired effect he wanted for this film anymore. This is why the ending feels more rushed, and the pay-off for the pretty long set-up simply wasn’t there. He cut it.What was supposed to be in the original ending, then? Remember during the film there were long winding shots of a car, specifically a convertible, going into and out of the little fishing town? The one scene in the boat where Tippi’s attacked and wounded for the first time by a seagull? The man found by Jessica Tandy with bloody, empty eye sockets, the eyeballs gauged out by birds, left in the corner of his bedroom, leaving her to run from the house terrified, so shocked by the horror she was meant to witness that she wasn’t even able to scream – which has a meaning course in and of itself, of course. And the explosion and fire at the gas station that had injured the sleepy town as a whole now, looking like a giant scar running through the middle of it? (By the way more than 50% of that shot was painted if you can believe it.)Well, it won’t surprise you that in typical Hitchcockian style, it was all to lead up to a huge crescendo, where, yes, Tippy, Rod, Jessica and the daughter escape the town, but not before they wake the blanket of birds outside as they rode through those same winding roads again, like the set-up in the beginning of the film. The seagulls would poke through the soft-top of the convertible and pick at Tippi as exactly the one seagull had done in the beginning, but more violently until they actually break into the car. Meanwhile, they would pass corpse after corpse as much like they had found their lovely neighbor (played by Suzanne Pleshette) in a disturbing angle of their limbs, but this time all of the corpses now having had their eyes eaten by the birds too. Eventually the soft-top would tear off entirely as the convertible gained speed, revealing the entire flock flying above them. But Rod pumps the gas pedal, making more speed than the seagulls could keep up with, escaping the flock. They ride on, freed, seemingly, until finally they arrive at the most famous of San Francisco’s landmarks, the city where the film had started in the first scene, now reflected in the very last scene. Yes, they arrive now at the Golden Gate Bridge. But it’s unrecognizable. The bridge is entirely covered in birds, so much so that it had turned from red to black. The end.This is widely known as the masterpiece ending to ‘The Birds’ that never was. Why did he change his mind? Hitchcock explained to Truffaut that he didn’t feel like having a pay-off anymore, even though the whole film was a set-up to this kind of ending. He wanted to end the film before an actual finale, so that the finale would play out in the viewer’s head, more than it would on screen. Of course, this was a stroke of genius, and we would see this replicated in many more movies afterwards who (try to) achieve it in the very same way.An optimist would see the ending and imagine them riding into the sunset as an escape, with the character of Tippi finally having found a mother figure in Jessica’s character, a happy ending of sorts. A pessimist would look down into that striking iconic final frame, and see the birds who take up two thirds of the view still very much undefeated, still very much alive and well, still very much a threat, just waiting in plain sight. To strike? Hitchcock’s ending leaves that up to your immediate gut reaction, because no amount of discussion can ever give a conclusive answer to any of the film’s questions, in stead just opening up the mind to a whole untapped range of ‘why’s’ it hadn’t before watching the film. He knew that the Birds and even his entire filmography would be heavily copied, for years and years to come, even today. But I bet he went to his grave smiling, knowing he was the one to bring it out in the world for it to be copied. I like to think Johan died that way too. I don't know if it brings me any comfort about what we were going through in the aftermath of it. At that time at least, not knowing what was to come, it wouldn't, yet.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
It was strange, naturally the whole thing was strange, but in that moment it was especially strange to see Van Der Smet, who had been so passive, so quiet, so admissive and attentive suddenly spring into action like he did. As he sent some of his crew members instantly to run after the concierge, who ran into the dark of the grounds leading into a forest behind the mansion, he at once rushed us back into the bus and at the same time called in back-up from the police station. The driver was instructed to drive anywhere, but in the heat of the moment, Ariadne proposed that they simply drive to the next destination that had already been planned, the restaurant Usufruct in Brussels. He had agreed and sent us off, with one of the crew staying with us to see everything was kept connected and streaming live into the AI. The bus drove off and Van Der Smet stood on the driveway in front of Johan's house on his phone, talking as much frantically into the phone as he shouted instructions to his fellow policemen standing there outside with him, pointing in all sorts of directions. It was strange, strange indeed, to see him off like that.Meanwhile inside our little bus, everyone was dead quiet, except of course Ariadne, who phoned the restaurant to tell them to entirely clear the place. The maitre d'hôte protested heavily at first, probably to do with people having waited on their reservations for months before finally getting to have dinner there. But once Ariadne threatened to close the place down as she well could, and mentioned the involvement of the police and their investigation, the maitre d'hôte immediately complied."It's been settled," she said, closing her phone and turning Van Der Smet's crewmember, "We'll have the entire place to ourselves. The driver can drop us off at the door, and then drive into the private parking. Will that do?"Van Der Smet's crewmember nodded and immediately messaged him. And that was it. We were off. The drive didn't take as long as it would have seemed otherwise, even though nobody said a word. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Driving now through the streets of Brussels, we were nearing the neighbourhood of Saint-Gilles where the famous restaurant Usufruct had made its name and earned its Michelin stars. However, the more it became popular and known, and just as soon as it gained its first Michelin star, it became exactly the thing Johan was trying to distance itself from: a one-off destination for who need to be seen to be eating there and gush about the privilege of having been to Usufruct. Johan had once again created something quite personal for himself, the entire menu based on his favorite dishes from childhood, collected from his memories of having eaten specific local brasserieën all across the country, and once again he had struck gold unintentionally, and lost interest along the way.I created the deed for the place, and basically was granted a lifelong free seat at the table at Usufruct. Many great and competent chefs have graced his kitchen, turning his memories into marvelous dishes, transporting us back to when homemade dishes from scratch was the norm, not as a protest, just as a specific experience, like a hug coming from of a long lost loved one, and all of his without feeling old-fashioned.The master stroke of Johan, is that he had since the very founding of Usufruct in the late nineties, insisted on opening a store inside the restaurant where people could take small dishes, some simple patisserie, pots of soups, sauces, confiserie, cookies and more home with them. This turned out to be just as great a success as the restaurant itself. Even if you were on the waiting list, you could still take something home whenever you like. I'm not saying it hasn't been done before. But I only ever saw one man come up with it myself, and it was Johan. And just like everything else he created, he grew tired of it as soon as it became successful. I have never understood it.Now you would have thought he at least would have invited his own family to his restaurant here in the capital - he had several restaurants, even outside Belgium - but he never did. I think he would have repeated the common phrase: "niemand is meer of een ander" and would have required them to pay for their visit and make their own reservations, which he knew they couldn't. Yes, he was cruel in that way. But this is just speculation on my part.It doesn't seem unfounded, however, since now that we're crossing the street stones of the trottoir entering into the restaurant, the mood of the group is generally that of great wonder at the fabulousness of the place. The entire staff was standing in line to greet everyone, and even the chefs shook their hands as the maitre d'hôte invited them to sit at a table with incredibly inventive lighting that shone just enough in the places where it should be bright, without overexposing the guests. The chairs were both stylish and comfortable, which isn't always the case in expensive restaurants and the older I get, the more I appreciate a comfortable chair if you're going to keep me there for five or more courses. Anyway, I could immediately spot that the tables in the restaurant had still been completely set according to Johan's preferences, which has been a sine qua non for many, many years now in al his restaurants. And it was all correct to the letter. Not that any of this mattered. As soon as everyone sat down and had the time to take it all in, the reality of why they were there settled back in, and most were sitting quietly with arms crossed.As we sat down at the table with each other, Ariadne had taken the head-chefs aside to inform them of what had happened. They didn't seem happy, and one of them even threw down their hat and stomped out of the restaurant. She then joined us at the table."Well," she said, "Today's the day when the sous-chef can show us what he's made of, I guess. He's going to lead the kitchen for us tonight.""Why did the head chef leave? Isn't that Brecht Vermeersch?"Brecht Vermeersch was indeed the star-chef of the restaurant currently."Yes, it is. Unfortunately he isn't very understanding of the situation and thinks it's very unfair that we should interrupt his orchestration of a menu for a fully booked service, just to serve well... just us.""Did you tell him about-""Yes, I did, but it made no difference. He had a lot of pent-up frustration. Has been like that for a while now.""I didn't know," said Jochen."You familiar?" asked Pieter, deeply sarcastic."As a matter of fact," answered Jochen, "Yes, I am. I'm actually even a fan. Is that a problem?""No," said Pieter with an uncharacteristically velvety voice, "Not at all."Ariadne, noticing the tension building up again, tried to lighten the mood, since we were all there for business, at least for her part."Some star-chefs need an audience just as much as they need ingredients and kitchen tools," said Ariadne, "Temps pis. So we lost him for the day. Not to worry. Youssef will take over from him today, and if you ask me, he's just as talented!""Great!" said Kenny, "I can't wait!""Not to worry," cried Pieter, "Not to worry? We were just rushed away from a crime scene where a witness literally ran away from one of us, and as we speak more and more police are pouring into the restaurant. And you think we're worried about the chef?!""Of course you aren't worried about the chef, my apologies, that is the least of your problems. I assure you, I understand. I... Sorry I must excuse myself. I need to talk to my assistants who were waiting in the offices in Hoog-Linden.""Sure, go talk to them. We'll be right here, waiting," said Pieter throwing his hands up."Pieter, we can do without your sarcasm," said Céline, "It's not helping anyone.""Well, can you blame me? I feel like we're being held hostage in a literal five star restaurant.""It's a one Michelin star restaurant," Kenny corrected him.Pieter took a deep breath and replied: "One star. Sorry. One Michelin star."He took another deep breath."Here we go," said Jochen."Who the hell cares?!" cried Pieter, "Who cares about the star count?"Ariadne came back."Ben, I have the documents here. Can you please review them?"Five waiters meanwhile came to the table and served the witloof met eiersla en krokante spekjes amuse bouchekes."Right now?" I said."The sooner you can look at the numbers, the sooner we can get it over with. We also have Guillaume on video for you in the other room, so you can go over it together.""Wonderful," I said, but I wasn't too sure if I meant it sarcastically or not, I feared I had been overexposed to Pieter's temperament.Ariadne took me to the room where Van Der Smet's team had set up, and I could see the table where the Paepe family was sitting in five or six screens and I could hear them too."I thought we were going to go over the numbers together?""Yes", said Ariadne, "Over there."On the other end of the table my trusted kandidaat-notaris was beaming at me from the screen of a laptop. It was good to see his reassuring smile."Hello, boss," said he, "Quite a busy day, I gather.""To say the least!" I replied, "Now have you seen the numbers? How will that stand against the tax bracket they would fall under, since the six of them aren't his children.""I have just ten minutes ago received the numbers, not enough time to give you the particulars, but, I'm afraid to say they will fall under derde personen.""It's a disaster," said Ariadne."I'm here only to see what the law says about splitting the estate as an inheritance now, amongst six beneficiaries.""The very thing I had wanted to avoid," complained Ariadne, massaging her temples."I'm very sorry, Ariadne. But, this should be for me and Guillaume only to discuss now. Actually, we should have Sven on the call as well.""We can get him on the call," said Guillaume, "He's working from home. I'll invite him now.""Good," said I.Ariadne remained stock-still, however, staring at the laptop screen."Do you mind, dear?""Sure," she said, looking visibly shaken.Slowly, she walked to the other side of the room, watching the screens where the Paepe family were seen eating dinner.Sven joined the call. All three of us crunched the numbers. We consulted the books. Soon, we had a result, and we had to call in Ariadne again."Tell me", she said, "Is there even going to a company left to run?"I told her the results, and she took a deep breath."We're going to have to tell them right away," she sighed."I agree."We went back. Our faces were grave enough for them to drop their utensils.“Well,” said Layla, “Out with it. Will there be an inheritance, or not?”“Due to Johan not having named any of you as his heir,” I was trying to sound reassuring even though this wasn’t good news, “It is called an ‘inheritance intestate’. The good news is that you pay only 7% tax on the businesses under the holding, since these are active family businesses. This makes up about 600 million euros of the 1 billion euro estate. However, everything other, the art collections, the real estate portfolio, all of the financial assets, on all of those you would need to pay a seventy percent inheritance tax. And you need to pay it within six months.”“Excuse me?” cried Layla, “But this is unheard of.”“Yes,” said Ariadne, “It is. And that’s because usually, the estate has prepared a strategy for succession of financial assets, avoiding this crazy, devastating tax in full! Usually, we can mitigate... some... of it.”Céline and Nele looked at one another.“What does it mean? What does it mean for us? We get nothing? Is that it? We get nothing at all?” cried Céline.“The total tax is 448 million euros to be paid within six months.”Everyone gasped.“Cognac!” shouted Nele to the waiter.“We could never pay that even with what’s left!” said Kenny.“Is that it then? Is it over for the Paepe holding,” asked Jochen.“Well, no,” said Ariadne, “We can save the estate.”“Yes,” said Pieter, “Go on. How?”“I can liquidate the wrappers we had put all of Johan’s financial assets into, and this could save us 200 million euros, but this means nobody inherits any of it. We just pay it to the state as is.”“As you should,” I said.“Of course, this is the law,” said Ariadne, with just a slight hint of reluctance, “And this would get the debt down to 248 million euros.”“Oh,” said Pieter, “Just a tiny little 248 million euros to pay in six months. Sounds doable, right?”“It isn’t,” said Ariadne, “So I would propose leveraging the things you are taxed for the hardest, the art collection in storage in Switzerland and the global real-estate portfolio, to take out a specialized loan at Lombard Odier, for 250 million. If it isn’t enough, we’ll leverage the entire company if we must.”“Great! That solves it then!” said Pieter, laughing and then muttered, “This is getting surreal, all of it. What a joke.”The waiters came in.“Prawn salad crackers,” they said and served them all at the same time. Ariadne waited patiently for them to leave again.“It would save you from the 248 million euros tax within six months. But it would mean paying back 250 million over 15-20 years to Lombard Odier. They will most certainly take out a loan for you guys, since you all hold eight hundred million euros in assets, but... you would be...”“What?!” shrieked Céline, “It would make us what?”“But it would make you the poorest multimillionaires in history.”“The poorest...” repeated Pieter, confused, “The poorest... what?”“The poorest multimillionaires in history?” asked Nele, “Now how does that work? You either are a multimillionaire or you’re not?”“It means,” said Layla, “That we together would own hundreds of millions of euros in assets, but we’re cash poor.”The only one laughing at the table was Pieter, indulging in the prawn salad served on crackers.“Well, that sounds better, at least,” he said crunchily. “We just went from 450 million in six months, to 250 million over 20 years! Hurray!! Jesus Christ...”“Well,” said Ariadne, “Yes. And anything left for you to live off would be next to nothing. Just little to no disposable income for the next 20 years.”“Meaning...” said Jochen."You would literally be living off scraps, for decades.”“What do you mean by scraps?” asked Nele in her slow, soft-spoken voice, “You forget, miss, that we already do. At least, speaking for my sister and I. Can you give us an amount, dear?”“Yeah, what kind of money are we talking about here,” said Kenny, “Specifically.”“Well,” said Ariadne, “Considering the media companies bring in twenty million in dividends a year, the real estate about eight million in rental income, the rest being liquidated already, you would be left with twenty six million a year before taxes as profit, to pay off the loan at a rate of 4,5% interest, you would need to, I’m so sorry, pay 19 million a year to Lombard Odier.”“Wait a second,” said Pieter, “Wait. Hold it. Twenty six minus nineteen. That would mean...”“I said I was sorry,” said Ariadne, not sensing that the growing sense of euphoria in the room was building, “But that would mean six point seven million amongst the six of you before taxes. After taxes, that...well... would shrink down to seventy percent of that number.”
“About eight hundred thousand euros per year,” said Layla, turning to Jean-Baptiste, jumping with joy.“What did she say?” asked Céline, getting up too, “What did she say?”Jochen didn’t get up. He sat back, blown away and taking her hand. He said: “Eight hundred thousand. Per year. After debt payment. After taxes. Eight hundred thousand.”“Eight... Hundred?” stammered Céline, “Thousand?!”“PER YEAR?!” shouted Pieter, throwing his glass of wine across the room after chugging it down, “PER YEAR?!”
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
As the Paepe family started celebrating with reckless abandon and demanded more celebratory wine and champagne to go along with the luscious dinner? They didn't mind ordering the most expensive, since they were about to own this and any restaurant of the Paepe holding, Ariadne came over and informed me Van Der Smet had requested I join a livestream of the interrogation of the concierge. I arrived just in time to hear the start of it.
"Let me get straight to the point," said Van Der Smet, "Why did you run?"
The concierge said: "I'm not telling you anything."
"I'll ask again, and I remind you, we are asking you to cooperate in a murder investigation. This means if you aren't cooperative, you are indicating to a degree you don't want the police so solve the murder case, in which case, you are most likely to be complicit, or worse."
"I told her! I told her! I said, I'll help her through the door, but I didn't want to know anything else. Nothing at all. I don't want to be part of it."
"You told her you would let her inside the house. But you didn't want to be part of it."
"That is exactly right, I told her: I agree to let you past the front door, I'll open the gate for you, but, anything past that, you're on your own."
"Mr. Akkers.... You opened the gate for her. You opened the front door for her."
"Yes. That's it."
Van Der Smet sighed.
"Mr. Akkers. May I call you Paul?"
"Of course you can, that's my name isn't it?"
"It most certainly is... Paul. You let her in. You opened the front door to Johan's house. You returned to your cottage and started livestreaming your diorama-making."
"Correct."
"I see. And this is what you had thought wouldn't count as... being... part... in any of this."
"Yes. I told her. I said to her - I was very clear- ‘I'll let you inside’ but that's it. Nothing more. Just that. I don't want anything to do with what happens after that. And that's that. You can see from the livestream, I didn't have anything to do with it."
"Apart from letting the murderer in the house, you mean?"
"Oh, but if you put it like that, of course it sounds bad."
"If I put it..."
Again rechercheur Van Der Smet couldn't help but chuckle.
"What's so funny? This is no laughing matter, rechercheur."
"Indeed it isn't. It really isn't. But here's the thing, Paul. You let her in -"
"Yes."
"And then, there was a gunshot."
"Yes, there was."
"And then, Johan was dead."
"Poor man. Yes. Good man. Kept to himself. Wouldn't harm a fly."
Rechercheur looked at his fellow policemen in the room, baffled, and then back to Paul.
"This is why, Paul, we want to find out. Why did you start running. When you saw the family get off the bus."
"Because I told her! I didn't want anything to do with this! I said I'll open the door, but... anything beyond. I just didn't want anything at all to do with it. And she promised."
"What did she promise?"
"She promised that I should never ever see her face again. And that I would have the money in my account."
"Money in your account?" said Van Der Smet, "Interesting."
"Yes. For opening the door, you see. It must have been really important, because she was going to pay me a lot. A very lot. Just to keep the secret safe."
"Well, I guess the secret's out now!"
"And I'm yet to receive anything! I checked this morning!"
"Ik geloof U, Paul, ik geloof U."
"The woman promised I would never see her face ever again, and that I would get my money, just so that she could deliver her message to him."
"It would seem that 'message' was received loud and clear."
"I'm just as surprised as you are, rechercheur, at how loud it was. A gunshot no less. Him being dead and all. A great loss. A great loss for the country, for the world."
Van Der Smet sighed. He was tired of beating around the bush.
"Laten we niet meer rond de pot draaien. Paul. You let in someone who promised to pay you lots of cash in exchange for getting inside to kill him."
"I did no such thing!"
"You did! Paul! Get serious! You let someone in who wanted to kill Johan, and they did, because you let them!"
"I wasn't told she would kill him!
"Of course she didn't! Of course she wouldn't say that!"
"Well, how was I supposed to know then that she was going to go so far?"
"You don't let people inside someone's house without their permission! But you did! In exchange for money!"
"Well, she told me something different!"
"What did she tell you?"
"She told me she had something really important to tell him, but he wouldn't take her calls. But she really needed to tell him, urgently!"
"Didn't it occur to you to ask Johan if she could come and talk to him?"
"Of course! And I did. I asked him many times, the past couple weeks. But she kept coming back."
"Paul. If Paul kept telling you that he didn't want to speak with her, why in your right mind would you agree to let her inside after all? And at night even. All in exchange for money? Is that it? Did Johan not pay you enough?"
"You don't understand. It's because she offered so much money, that I thought it was more serious than I could comprehend, and I thought, well, if she wants to pay me one million euros just to give him a message, well, that must be one message he would be willing to hear, even though he's stubborn about it."
"A million euro message, huh," said Van Der Smet.
"A million euros, yes," said the concierge, "That's how much it meant to her to give him that message. I would never have thought she would want to kill him."
"You didn't think that."
"No. No, I didn't."
"Then you heard the gunshot at 21:00 hours."
"That's correct."
"You were in your cottage with your dioramas."
"Correct."
"You ran out of your cottage and then what."
"I ran up there. I ran through that front door and up the stairs and I saw her talking to the housekeeper -"
"Excuse me, what? What did you say?"
"The housekeeper. Yes. They were talking, frantic-like. But as soon as she saw me, she ran towards me and passing me she shouted: if you ever see me again, run. And that's what I did. I ran. I ran. You saw it."
"I... Yes, we saw it. But, Paul. According to you, Johan didn't have a housekeeper."
"Not on the books."
"How do you mean not on the books?"
"He 'didn't have' a housekeeper, and everyone knew it," he made the quotation marks sign with his fingers, "Everyone on the street does it that way!"
"How do you mean everyone does it."
"Everyone has a housekeeper, but they keep it off the books. They just pass them an envelope. Everyone knows about this. They pass them an envelope in stead. It's just... How it works!"
"I see. But she was there."
"Yes, of course she was."
"That is what we meant when we asked if he had any staff around at the time of the murder."
"Well, the answer is still no because he has no staff."
Van Der Smet didn't say anything.
"Not on the books!"
"When we asked, we didn't mean on or off the books. We just meant if there was someone else around when the gunshot happened."
"Well, yes, the housekeeper was. She was off the books but she was there, of course."
"Of course... Ok, and what was she doing there."
"Cleaning, I guess. Afterwards, she always takes her bike home. come to think of it, she should have been home much earlier, like right after dinner time, after she's done cleaning the dishes, which is the last thing she needs to finish, usually."
"Wait a minute there, Paul, if she knew the housekeeper, why go through all the trouble of getting you to open the gate and the door for her, when the housekeeper could have done it?"
"I couldn't tell you. But I can tell you that the housekeeper didn't know about the whole thing! Honest to God!"
"Why?"
"Because. They were both of them yelling and screaming at one another as I came up those stairs. And I heard the housekeeper yelling: 'Why did you have to do this? Why? See what you did? Why did you have to do this?' and she sounded very upset, what with Johan being dead and all probably and the last thing I heard her say to the housekeeper was: 'But you're the one holding the gun, so you better be smart and keep your mouth shut.' That's when she saw me and ran past me, straight out the door."
"What did you do next?"
"Well, I went up to the housekeeper, who was standing there in the hallway, crying, looking at Johan in his armchair, bleeding from the head. Dead. Dead as can be."
"And was she holding the gun?"
"Yes, she was. Yes, she was."
"And what did you do, then."
"Well, she said we better never talk about this to anyone, lest we be caught up in it and we're all innocent. And she said we need to clean the gun and I told her, well that's something you should know a thing or two about and she cleaned the gun and told me to call the police and tell them about the suicide. That she would put the gun back."
"And then?"
"I went to my cottage, I called you guys. By the time you arrived, she was gone, and the gun was there."
"You said she told you to tell us it was a suicide."
"It wàs a suicide."
"But how can you be so sure?"
"Because the housekeeper told me so. She said she saw it. That it was a suicide."
"Paul. Don't you think someone holding a gun over a dead body would say something like that."
"I know how it sounds when it comes from my stupid mouth, but I believed her when she said it. You should have heard her. It's true. And she said that if people think it's a murder and not a suicide, we would all be complicit!"
"Now that's true," said Van Der Smet, "That most certainly is true."
Suddenly, a chilling cry came from the restaurant, bringing me back into my present environs as if I had been daydreaming. Ariadne and I looked over at the screens. It seemed just a minute ago they were having the best dinner of their entire lives, and now everyone was in a panic.
"She's bleeding! She's bleeding!" cried Céline.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
I moved closer to the monitors to see exactly what the commotion was about and saw that everyone was flocking towards Brenda."Jochen!" shouted Céline, "Jochen! Kom hier! Nu!"Surprisingly, none of the three brothers had come until now. They had been celebrating too hard to realize what was happening.As if they hadn't noticed anything was the matter with Brenda, they were giggling and belly-laughing amongst each other, as if just standing there was enough and they needn't even enquire as to why they were even called there.Ariadne and I ran into the room, together with some of the waiting staff, who brought some paper towels. Others called for an ambulance."Jochen!" cried Céline again once Ariadne and I had come closer, "For goodness sake, take a look at this!"Jochen looked over at Brenda with a slight drunk delay and then let his eyes fall upon the horrific scene. Brenda was indeed bleeding, but the lighting in the restaurant was too dim to see it until very close."Someone turn up the lights in here," shouted Ariadne to the restaurant staff, "We can't see a thing in here!"Then, she turned to the police and scolded them as well:"Guys! What happened here? How can you be so careless? I thought at least someone was keeping an eye on everything while we were in there?"One of the policemen mumbled: "Why, yes. The AI is. The AI is keeping an eye on things. We just monitor the AI who monitors everything."Having less and less confidence in anything that was promised the AI program was capable to do in helping in policing matters, I asked: "Well then, what kind of use is this policing AI for when it doesn't even alert or notify you when something like this happens? We just literally heard someone scream and that's how we found out.""Well", the policeman stuttered, "It's because... Well, the AI would have alerted it, but the camera feed was too dark. The video didn't pick up blood in the dark.""Oh, the AI doesn't pick up on blood in the dark?" I said, agitated. I wasn't at all too pleased that even Johan's restaurant had now become some sort of crime scene.I turned to Ariadne."Ariadne, this is going far beyond what I had agreed to as notary in this case.""Exactly!" cried Pieter, giggling, not knowing in the least what I was talking about. He and Kenny hadn't even noticed Brenda yet. And if they did, they hadn't noticed she was bleeding."It's her wrists!" cried Layla meanwhile."Mon dieu!" cried Jean-Baptise.The lights turned on. Now the crimson blood was crystal clear for all to see. Brenda was quite literally bleeding to death at the very same dinner table they were all celebrating at."Don't just stand there!" said Céline, who was surrounded by the staff, "Help us!""What? What can we?" Jochen tried to speak, but he was too tipsy to form sentences.Céline had been trying to stop the bleeding with her bare hands, the blood oozing through her fingers. But the staff had already brought her some hot towels, and she finally could let go to press it against her wrist. Other staff helped Céline clean her hands off the blood."I think I'm going to faint," said Layla, "I can't stand the sight... of..."Someone came to Ariadne, who then turned to us."The ambulance is on its way", she said."This is absolutely insane", said Pieter, sobering up at the chilling scene, putting down his beer on the table, "This really has gone too far. You have effectively locked us all up with a killer, and they're not afraid to strike!""Here, here!" said Kenny, inexplicably. He was too drunk to realize what was going on."Well, at least an ambulance is coming, now", said Jochen, "Brenda is going to be fine.""How can you say that? Look at her? She's nearly dead!" his wife shouted at him."Give her something to drink", said Kenny, making another inappropriate joke."You're crossing a line here, Kenny! Jochen. Do something about your brother. How would you like it when people talk about having beers when you're in mortal danger next to them?""I would love it!" said Kenny. This time Jochen also couldn't keep it in."There's always trouble when the three of you get together!" Céline said, swishing the blood off her hands before rubbing it off with one of the hot towels.At that very moment, Nele stumbled in. It appeared she was drunk, or at the very least extremely tired."Céline," she asked, groggy-looking, "Why were you screaming? What happened? What -"Then she caught sight of Brenda, covered in even more blood, not to mention the wheelchair itself and the pool underneath that had saturated the floor carpet. Jochen put down his bottle of beer and embraced her."Brenda's been attacked.""Attacked?""Yes," said Pieter.Then unexpectedly, Brenda moved a little in her wheelchair. Everyone except Van Der Smet turned around towards her."She moved!" cried Céline, and then to Brenda: "Brenda. Brenda. Can you hear me? It's all going to be OK! It's all going to be OK. The ambulance is coming.""Stop!", cried Nele, "She doesn't need an ambulance. She doesn't want one. She hates hospitals.""Nele, what on earth are you saying?" asked Layla."And where have you been all this time!" asked Jochen."I was on the toilet", said Nele."On the toilet?" repeated Layla."On the very bowl", said Nele.Again, everyone was too stunned to speak, when Brenda moved again, as if she was shuffling about in her chair, trying to make herself comfortable."But how can this be? She's... she's been in a waking coma for decades? Catatonic!" said Jochen."She has and she hasn't. But I don't expect any of you to believe me", said Nele, "I have been trying to tell you. But no one of you ever listened.""Either she's catatonic, or she's not", said Pieter, "Which one is it.""See, this is why I never try to tell you anymore. And you call yourself family. Just for pictures. And preferably ones without a wheelchair, am I right?""Nele," said Céline, "Come on. We're not that cruel.""But you have been cruel to me. But can you see now? She's catatonic, until she isn't.""What do you mean?" asked Layla."I have cared for her for decades, thirty years almost. The first ten with my mother. The last twenty just me by myself. She does this. She has done it before. Now you see for yourselves.""See what?" everyone asked in unison."That she tries to cut her wrists every now and again.""That can't be true!""There we have it. Just like always," she sighed, taking one of the chairs and sitting down beside her sister, putting pressure on one of the wrists, as if by habit."I can't remember you bringing it up at all", said Céline."I have brought it up", said Nele, "But you've never thought it was the right time. Or maybe, maybe you thought I was just trying to get you to help take Brenda off my hands. And no one is willing to take Brenda off my hands, are you. Well, I didn't make it up. I was just telling the truth. She's not always catatonic. When she's able, she slyly takes a knife when you don't pay attention and hides it in her sleeve. I can't tell you how many time I've found a knife in there and taken it away before she could do something with it. And I have told you. But you always only invite me to parties and at the parties you only pay attention to your kids and the snacks and the husbands and the beers, but when it comes to my sister of whom I have taken care for decades, you don't seem to want to talk to her or about her. Shame on you! See here. This is a sight I have to deal with constantly. I patch her back up. And then, I go about my day again. There's only so many times you can cry about it.""But how about the doctors? Why, they must have found this to be some kind of breakthrough, or something! Take her into special care, revalidation even?"Nele let out a big old laugh."The doctors? Do you mean the same ones who had determined her dizzy spells had been due to stress and it turned out to be meningoencephalitis? And got her into this state in the first place? Yes. Yes, the doctors did take a look, the first couple of times. Yes. They found her to be catatonic "enough" to still, let's say, keep her under my care. They gave me tips on to how to bandage and call it a day. Never mind that she sometimes is able to speak. I did beg them to see this as some kind of start of revalidating her, but, they didn't see any course for revalidation of any sort. Just to keep caring for her. As I was doing. Had been doing."Again, a stunned silence."And we're supposed to take your word for it?" said Jochen."I beg your pardon?" said Nele."So you say! But Brenda is left helpless, wrists cut, to be bleeding out in the dining room where ever so conveniently, she was placed in a dark spot with almost no lighting on her. And then after we were able to patch her up somewhat after Layla found her, you show up op uw dooie gemak?""I said, I was on the toilet.""It's too convenient,” said Céline."Are you trying to make me look like a killer.""Why shouldn’t I? Join the club!" said Céline.As if out of nowhere, Van Der Smet appeared."Everyone remain calm," he commanded."Oh, goodie," said Pieter, stumbling towards him, Westvleteren bottle still in hand, "Our dearest rechercheur is back with his state-of-the-art technology right here, coming to our rescue in our time of need, right? He can solve ANYTHING. It's all right here on his itty, bitty, little laptop.""I have all the footage here to figure this out, so we don’t need to speculate any further," said rechercheur Van Der Smet finally.Céline looked at Jochen, as if Van Der Smet wasn't even speaking, and saw him sway slightly from side to side and whispered to him: "Darling, get a glass of water and drink it whole. This is important. I can't have you being drunk right now."Jochen nodded and got up. Rechercheur Van Der Smet cleared his throat as if preparing for a soliloquy. And he was."OK. So. I have access to all footage of everything since this morning, and thanks to the latest advances in technology, the AI had scrubbed through hours and hours of video from all the cameras. Then, it has made a mind map of all connected instances, all of it illustrated with clips it has made from the raw footage. Now it is rendering a specific video: one that followed Brenda's journey from the offices of Mr. De Walters all the way to the moment she was discovered bleeding at this dinner table by us. It can show us who was where and when.""Incredible," I said."Very much on the contrary, my friend. It is credibility itself. Now take a look here: We see during the shouting match at your office in your practice that Brigitte had served some refreshments. At the request of Mr. de Walters, Brigitte had brought a kitchen knife to help Nele cut the banana. Nele then proceeded to feed these llittle cuts of banana. Now, here we can see Brenda eating the banana bits. However, I want you to pay special attention as the AI fast forwards to the following moment of interest. It is exactly the moment, and pay close attention to this everyone, that we see here: Mr. De Walters had asked Brigitte to guide Nele and Brenda to the sitting room whilst we were outfitting you all with the audio and video equipment before getting on the bus. Now let's slow the footage down.”He pointed at the screen.“Did you catch it?""What happened? I didn't see anything," said Kenny, "Did you see anything?""Not a thing," said Pieter."I told you to pay attention," said rechercheur Van Der Smet, "One moment the knife was on the table where Nele had left it after cutting the bits of banana. The next... it is gone."He rewinded the video."Indeed", I said, surprised Brenda had indeed in fact stolen some cutlery from my own home."I told you", said Nele, and sat back down."Where did it go?" asked Jochen."Let me show you", said rechercheur Van Der Smet with glee.He scrolled back the video and slowed it down extensively."Aaaaand... Now."In what seemed like the blink of an eye, just as Brigitte was proceeding them to show the way to the sitting room, with Nele pushing her wheelchair, turning it to face the right direction towards Brigitte, Brenda had snatched the kitchen knife and stuffed it into her sleeve, lightning fast."I can't believe it", said Pieter."This is incredible", said Céline, "Unconscionable.""Again, I beg to differ", said Van Der Smet, smugly driving his tired joke home a second time, "It is very much credible. It is the truth. Brenda, as Nele had just said, took the kitchen knife into her sleeve and had waited for an unattended moment to slit her wrists.""But... we're right on the cusp of inheriting nearly a million euros a year! You might both of you live your lives completely different as you have before. Surely this should give her some hope?" said Kenny."If the doctors have no hope, what are the millions going to do for her?""If I may direct your attention to the following as well," Van Der Smet interrupted them, “According to our video footage, we only see Nele leave the toilet until after everyone started tending to Brenda's wounds. Look.""Nele", said Pieter, "You have to admit. This looks very suspicious. You let your sister out of the toilet, the waiter wheels her over to this dinner table and she starts bleeding all of a sudden from the wrists?""We only saw her take the knife. We didn’t see her cut her wrists, Nele!" added Céline."Are you serious? I am the person who has looked after her, the ONLY person who has looked after her for years, for decades! And you dare suspect me of trying to kill her? Whatever for? What in the hell ever for?!""The AI has determined that if you have done it, it would most likely be for the money", said rechercheur Van Der Smet, "A bigger share.""As her legal guardian, I would already have her share! What don’t you guys understand about me being her sole guardian and caretaker?""Didn't you just say that even if Brenda were to inherit her part of the money, it wouldn't even be able to change her predicament in any substantial way," asked Céline.Nele hesitated for a moment."Yes", she said, "Yes, I did.""Well then," continued Céline, "Let's say you wouldn't want to spend your brand-new millionaire lifestyle having to drag her along with you anymore. What if something clicked in your mind, like you could finally live a life that didn't revolve around having to be that person, that caretaker, at the expense of all of your own wants and needs. The idea that you could start fresh? Maybe, just maybe, it drove you to do something drastic?"Despite her grogginess, Nele now stood up and pointed at her."It is not my statement", said Nele, "But yours that is concerning, Céline. How can you even think of such a thing?""See! It's all too suspicious. You still haven't explained, Nele, why you were in the toilet for so long!""I fell asleep!""You fell asleep?!""I fell asleep!""How can you fall asleep at a time such as this?""How can I not? This whole thing is tiring beyond measure! Will you blame me for having a drink or two after this whole ordeal?"“Rechercheur, how much longer are you going to let this bickering go on for if you have it already figured out, you sadist?” asked Pieter.“I’m afraid you’re right, Pieter,” said Van Der Smet, "Mrs. Joyabel Paepe, could you hold out your hands? You are under arrest."Everyone stared at her in absolute surprise."But why?" asked Kenny, "Why? How?""The concierge is now a witness for the prosecution and has named her. She is to be taken to the police department immediately."
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
That night, I bet the executive suites Ariadne had booked at the Dacoz hotel in Kortrijk, so everyone could get rested before getting on the plane at Kortrijk-Wevelgem International Airport, really didn't do much to relieve the shock of Joyabel's arrest. Brenda, too, had been taken to the hospital by ambulance. And dven though Van Der Smet was not at liberty to divulge details on the investigation, now that Joyabel had been arrested, the unfortunate death of Johan Paepe seemed to be resolved. They might not have known the man throughout their lives as Ariadne had, but at least now the family had the space to grieve it, the ordeal as the whole, nonetheless.
This hotel, the Dacoz, was of course the best option to stay, since it offered everyone the option to drop their car off at the valet parking, in stead of leaving them in the street near my office, and it was just 15 minutes away from where we would take the private jet to New York first thing in the morning, to finalize the inheritance and meet the rest of the board, take a tour of some of the headquarters of the media companies under the Paepe Holding.
Meanwhile, having drinks at the bar before calling it a night, Ariadne told me she would of course have preferred that the arrangement should have stayed as is. Her masterpiece plan, intact, untouched, just an easy and breezy transition to the next financial chapter of the holding. That would have been best for the company, and needless to say for the secret beneficiary. But, now, she admitted, having gotten to know the Paepe family personally, she was glad to include them in the business. She just wished Johan had changed his mind before all of this.
But there was something else bothering her, and I couldn't pinpoint what it was.
As if the roles had been reversed, the ever confident Ariadne now was the nervous one, even as everyone else was in a state of shock but relief at the end of the ordeal, except for Kenny, who kept repeating: "Why? Why would she have done that? I can't believe it. I don't believe it!"
Nobody had an answer ready for him, just hugs and a reassuring hand on the shoulder as they looked down to listen to him, to his grief.
"Did she own a billion euros all along? But then, why? Why would she not use it to save our restaurant? Why would she hide it from me?"
"We don't know," said Jochen, "You'll see her soon enough. You can ask her. But perhaps we'll never know. Who can understand these things."
"I think there's a lot we didn't know about her," said Céline, "She really was just always smiling and kept to herself. She didn't really like to engage in conversation about... stuff."
"That's not true!", said Kenny, "Just not to you!"
Everyone scolded Céline and shortly after, everyone went to their rooms, beyond exhausted of having to deal with her throughout the day.
Ariadne and I eventually left too after one more drink in silence, being the last two people at the bar signaling it truly was time to go to bed. She wished me a good night, and took the elevator up. That night, I thought it would be a great time to watch something to take my mind of the stress of this extraordinary day. What better movie than the one film that eventually defined my favorite director and became the standard by which all of his films were later measured?
Do you know the feeling of having your favorite singer sing the song they are known for most, the most popular one, repeated to the point of becoming cliché, tired and old, just to have them sing it once more and completely nailing it? It is exhilirating. And that is what Hitchcock did for the film Psycho.
He had one more film on contract to shoot with the studio before moving to another contract and he had decided: well, let's do what I know how to do well and go all the way with it. This was years after Rear Window, a release in full splendid wide technicolor - and he decided to film it in black and white and in a standard aspect ratio. Why? He was taking back the medium by which his work had been copied to the point of becoming cliché, and reclaimed it again, masterfully. He managed to make it groundbreaking - the first time a toilet had been allowed to be used by a studio film on screen and the first time a nude model had been used to film a shower scene - by using the format people had considered already fully explored and tired. His point? The gimmick of new formats doesn't replace the genius of storytelling done right.
The film had rendered an entire generation terrified of letting your guard down in the shower, only to be outdone decades later with the early 2000s film "The Grudge" who terrified a whole other generation of taking a shower without looking over your shoulder.
As always, the man didn't need a script or storyboard, having everything firlmy lodged in his imagination, these tools functioning only as an illustration to everyone else beside himself what the vision was he was trying to capture would look like. He had worked for months, as he did with all his other films, tirelessly and obsessively with the screenwriters and the storyboarders, and never took credit for it. In the case of Psycho, in fact, it was the screenwriter's idea and not Hitchcock to cast Anthony Perkins in the role of Norman Bates. It was a twist that apparently pleased Hitchcock, since in the original short story, Norman Bates was a rude character, described as an old man who had put on a lot of weight. The screenwriter Joseph Stefano had in later interviews revealed that he thought it would be much scarier to an audience to have a person that doesn't seem like a villain at first glance, even someone likeable, turn out to be a murderer, in stead of having the crude, cruel man with a horrible character. He had just seen a play with Anthony Perkins, and after Hitchcock had seen Anthony, he thought it was a brilliant plan. So they did it. And Anthony plays it so, so masterfully, it's a marvel to watch and re-watch.
The black and white format was considered passé, but leave it to Hitchcock to make it a groundbreaking cinematic experience. The entire iconic slashing sequence in the shower, where every cut feels like a stab-wound, followed by the long shot of her dead stare, face planted on the floor next to the toilet, long enough for the eye to haunt the viewer as he really took his time to pan out with no music whatsoever. Then, the entire aftermath is equally as silent, no music, no dialogue, as he methodically wraps her in the shower curtain and puts her in the trunk of the car, the entire thing so drawn out it leaves the audience sitting back as a voyeur to someone's extermination, almost as if making them complicit in the act.
As if this wasn't enough to scare and disturb audiences at the time to their core, Hitchcock didn't allow them any relief. In the very end of the film, the character Lila Crane played by Vera Miles - who also had one more film on contract with Hitchcock - discovers a figure sitting in the basement, indeed, the mother of Norman. But as she calls to her without any response and when she finally turns around the chair, she is greeted by a dried up corpse dressed in Mrs. Bates old clothes and fully outfitted with a wig. She stumbles back, knocking the hanging lamp fixture which swings the light across the shriveled skin and gaping cavities of her dead face from left to right and back again. Doesn't sound like your typical black and white film, now does it? Probably because later, it had been repeated in films such as "Indiana Jones" or the horror film "The Ring" to conjure the very same effect on the audience.The next morning I got up, had a lovely shower, and before going down to breakfast, got my suitcase fully packed again. I don't like to come back from breakfast and having to rush it. So when I got down to the breakfast area and greeted everyone on that sunny morning, it seemed that, even for the couple Layla and Jean-Baptiste who came in after myself, everyone was looking sideways at Céline and Jochen, who were enjoying breakfast together like a newlywed couple. Pieter and Kenny, having breakfast together at another table on the other side, strangely, looked at them extremely irritated, it seemed. In yet another corner, Nele had also sat down for breakfast, but she apparently did not mind, as she was enjoying the food Brigitte had prepared, especially the ommelet and sausage, alongside some toast with butter and blackberry jam.Before I could grab a plate and parttake of the excellent breakfast, suddenly rechercheur Van Der Smet appeared and pulled me aside after declining an invitation to sit down and eat with me."I am sure the guests are enjoying breakfast, but I'm still running an investigation here. In fact, unlike the guests, my team and I have been busy all night. And there are some things I need to share with you before we proceed.""Of course, rechercheur", I replied, "If there is anything else we can do to help, but... I had thought it was well and over? I don't think some of the family can handle any more before collapsing.""Mr. De Walters, I do apologize that it's been dragging on, and that you are involved so heavily in this as the notary, however I think I did mention the experimental nature of our new methodology, which requires some unexpected concessions.""I thank you", said I, "Now what is it you said I needed to know before joining my guests?""The first thing is that AI had picked up on some significant activity last night, having accessed the hotel's CCTV footage ever since you all arrived at the Cobergher.""Which is?" I tried to hurry him along, holding a plate of hotcakes which I didn't have the chance yet to cover with maple syrup, an affront to humanity."Well... there appears to have been some sexual activity."I sighed and took a deep breath whilst taking in this apparently unrelated tidbit of information."I'm not sure what that has to do with anything! I trust the AI agrees this is significant?""Absolutely.""In what way," I asked but Van Der Smet was cut short of what I was about to say as the guests behind me had clearly come to the same conclusion."You two disgust me!" said Pieter, looking at Céline and Jochen."How can you be having sex on a night such as last night?!""I don't think it's any of your business", said Jochen, his face changing from a contented happy expression, to clear contempt."It's all of our business! Everything each and everyone does here is everyone's business!" cried Pieter."This is true", added rechercheur Van Der Smet, entering the room."Wasn't this whole case resolved, then?""The investigation is ongoing. An arrest doesn't equal an end to a case. Even if many films and plays end that way. We aren't in a play, here, Mr. Paepe.""Even so. Are even our intimate moments being monitored?" asked Jochen, his disapproval of the notion being clear, "You haven't informed us we were still under surveillance!""On the contrary," said Van Der Smet, "I haven't at any point indicated we had stopped surveilling you.""What?!" gasped Jochen, "This has to be some kind of viola-""What did you expect, Jochen?" Pieter interrupted him, eating another sausage meanwhile."I'm actually not surprised at all they were having sex", said Kenny, "Since now that Joyabel is arrested, the spotlight has now been taken off the two of them, hasn't it? Must be a relief."As expected, Céline piped up before Jochen could say anything."Do you know what it's like to care for children, 24 hours a day each day for years on end? No, you don't! So don't blame us when we make the best of this little time we get with each other, regardless of the circumstance."To everyone's astonishment Kenny jumped up from his chair: "Make the best of it?! Of Joyabel being arrested? You heartless woman!""You keep martyring yourself for being a mom", said Pieter, "It's tired, Céline. I have a child too. You don't see me celebrating my time off from my daughter? I'd rather be with her than sitting here.""Really?" said Jochen, looking at Pieter's plate barely keeping the heaping tower of food from falling down on the table."I don't know why our own private sex lives should be topic of general conversation," said Jochen, "Don't get upset about.""We have every right to be upset, Jochen. Read the room! We all agree that last night was hardly a romantic setting-""Are you seeing the same hotel I am seeing?" retorted Jochen."But nothing about yesterday was romantic. At all. And it was so loud! So long and so loud!""How is that your business again?""Because we could all hear," added Kenny."As if you would leave the chance of getting some money, disturbing sounds or no," said Céline."Now why would you be so mean about that?" said Layla, finally entering the conversation, "You are always the first to throw around accusations as to who the secret billionaire amongst us is, by inflating the tiniest little details of our own private lives, but then when it comes to yours, we can't have any opinion on it! You're not being fair.""OK. Alright. Like what, Layla?!" Céline hissed."Like what you just said to Kenny just now. As if needing money is something to be laughed at. And that it does seem like you and Jochen had every reason to celebrate last night!"Céline started laughing, whilst Jochen remainted silent, recognizing as no other the manic tone of it."You are amazing, Layla, you truly are", she said, "It's so farfetched it's ridiculous! We all have reason to celebrate! Didn't you hear Ariadne? We're going to be rich, all of us!""Excusez-moi", interrupted Jean-Baptise, "But en faite it is the two of you we have discussed the least, even when you're both at the top of the list of murder suspects according to the AI."Céline's face turned feral."And what is it you would like to know? How we battled and suffered and lost our dear Jens to leukemia, tried every little avenue we could find, any medical treatment known for that specific type of cancer? How we tried even the treatments we couldn't afford? And how after all that, after he died, we had our house taken away that we had built from the ground up, since we had put everything we had owned, everything, at risk to save our Jens, only to lose him? How we're still dealing with all that, even after five years? How we try to carry on, broken, every single day? Does that sound like a secret billionaire lifestyle to you?"As Céline was recounting their heartbreaking story, Jochen had been staring down at his hands in his lap the whole time. Nobody said a word, hearing the pain in every single word coming from her lips.But then, Kenny looked Céline blankly in the face, repeating the word she had been using all day yesterday: "Allegedly."Céline turned white as a sheet and seemed like she would explode, however, Jochen did not interfere this time."But you're unconscionable", she shouted at him, "Unconscionable!"After a moment of silence, Jean-Baptiste, in his soothing and perpetually calm tone, said: "Look, Céline, we have all told our stories. And when we did, you had no sympathy for any of our words. But what is more strikingly clear, to me franchement, is that you just... told us the exact same story as before. Almost word for word. Je m'excuse, mais..." He blinked his eyes and shrugged his shoulders whilst leaning deeper into his chair as a way to end this sentence."And what is it you would want to know about us? You need more details of our suffering? Do you get off on that?" Céline spewed, making sure she exerted all effort she had not to scream."Come on Céline," cried Pieter, shaking his head with disappointment."Well, par example", said Jean-Baptise, "We still don't know what Jochen does for work. I mean, since we're trying to find the secret billionaire here, it seems appropriate to at least know that.""Oh, God", sighed Pieter."The reason we don't ask is because we all already know... Oh boy do we know!" said Kenny.Pieter turned to Jean-Baptiste: "Once you get him going, he won't stop talking about it.""I want to hear it from him", said Layla, "And why are you so quiet, Jochen?""I'm not quiet", said Jochen."Yes, you are", said Kenny."OK. OK! I'm a journalist", said Jochen.
That was it. Everyone waited him to say more, but he just shrugged his shoulders."Voilà," he said."Happy?" asked Céline, turning her face away from Layla before waiting for an answer."OK. Fine", said Layla, "Thank you. Good to know. And for what paper?""I work for several papers and magazines.""He's being modest. He's done all of them.""All of them?" asked Layla, "So then, what are you working on now?""I..." stammered Jochen. It was quite unusual to see his eloquent self hesitate like that. Rechercheur Van Der Smet had noticed the exact same thing."So?", asked Layla, but seeing as there wasn't a response she rephrased the question: "When did you last publish?"At this moment, Jochen's face turned into a sort of didactic mode."Well, I always work on the most pressing and current social issues. I love writing about how the fabric of our lives -""Fabric of our lives," mocked Kenny."- And interaction change sometimes gradually, sometimes unnoticed and I then suggest some causal relations between them, that might help readers contextualize what they may or may not realize that they are going through."Layla and Jean-Baptiste stared at him, knodding slowly, corners of their mouths signaling some skepticism, but still needing to hear more. Everyone else in the room seemed puzzled as to what Jochen had just tried to explain."Vague, right," said Pieter to Jean-Baptiste."It's always vague," said Kenny, looking down at his plate of food, as if noticing it for the first time and filling his mouth with as much food as he was able to get on his spoon."It's not!" cried Céline, "It's all very thoughtful and as a matter of fact he's been working hard for years now on... -""Years?" said Layla to Jean-Baptise, who raised his brow."Yes, years. It's a big investigation, very hush-hush."Jochen turned to Céline, whispering to her to stop talking about that, but of course now the cat was out of the bag."Tell us more about this hush-hush piece", said Layla to Jochen."Yes... Well..." Jochen hesitated, "Of course things have slowed down after Jens had passed. I actually took a little break from this particular... piece.""Piece..." mocked Kenny."So it's been years since you published any work?" said Layla.As she said this, a pang of pain was visible over Jochen's face."Yes", he said, "looking down again, almost in shame."Jochen", said Céline, "Come on, why are you shrinking like that? You told me it would likely be published soon in a series of articles.. -""Well, that was a while ago", Jochen interrupted her with a nervous laugh."So a publishing house is paying you to do this investigation?" asked Layla."Yes, both the magazine, a paper and a publishing house had taken an interest in my investigation and had been supporting my research.""Had been," repeated Jean-Baptise."What was it about?" Asked Layla.Not used to being the interviewee rather than the interviewer, Jochen started to sweat. Van Der Smet was paying close attention."I... I..." he stammered."Maybe best not let him start on a huge lecture," said Kenny."I don't think he looks like he's going to start a huge lecture, on the contrary," said Layla.Jochen finally looked up and locked eyes with rechercheur Van Der Smet, realizing that even though it was his family asking, this was all still very much on the record."I... well, to be completely honest..."Céline, surprised at the change of tone, turned to face him."What's this?" she said."Yes?" said Layla."To be completely honest", Jochen continued, "I haven't worked on that project since Jens died. The project... is... over."Céline's face turned more pale."How... What can you mean? You... you told me your book was as good as done!""It was... but...""But what?"Jochen sighed and looked at her with frantic, red eyes."The project is over! After Jens died. I... It's just over. OK? OK?!"Nobody dare come between the two, who had just been sharing food like two lovebirds minutes before and now seemed moments away strangling one another."So you lied?" said Céline."I... I didn't want to concern you.""You did! You lied to me!" said Céline, "But then..."Both brothers stared at Jochen in disbelief."What was this book about? This cancelled project? What were you researching, exactly?" asked PieterJochen looked around the breakfast room and seeing that all eyes were fixed on him, he replied: "I... Well... It was about... The one percent of the one percent. It was... It was called that. That was the title: the one percent of the one percent.""But what was it about?" asked Pieter.Jochen took another deep breath, as if the title of the book was hard to say out loud."It was about a specific one percent of the one percent. An investigation into a very specific radical group amongst the richest people on our planet and their beliefs."A stunned silence."Hold on a minute", said Layla, "You were effectively writing about...""Billionaires", said Kenny bitterly."All this time you worked on this project and you couldn't tell me about it and just now you can reveal it to everyone? And what have you been doing for work if you haven't published since Jens?""I'm working... I'm working as a accounting assistant at an investment firm now.""Where?" asked Céline, shaking."At Paepe Investment."
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
"Right now, we are in the U.S., Bergen County, New York, fresh off the jet in Teterboro Airport, driving towards the film and gaming production studios of the Paepe holding, but... Ah! Look at that view! Of course, right now we're looking at the majestic Hudson Palisades, shining in the beautiful morning sun. Yes, true, in Dutch, mountains are called 'Bergen' too, and that's not a coincidence, Bergen is also a city in Henegouwen, right? It will surprise you to hear that Bergen wasn't very far from the birthplace of one of the very first settlers here, monsieur Minuit from Doornik (or Tournai), who famously bought the whole of Manhattan from the Native Americans, scandalously unfair, for 24 dollars in trinkets!In fact! The first settlers ever in New York - then part of the Nieuw-Nederland project they were trying to make work - actually came from Wallonia, now the now French-speaking southern part of Belgium, if you can believe it! Can you imagine that the first settlers in New York were 30 families of French-speaking Belgians basically, with only just the crew on the ship crossing the atlantic speaking Dutch? It's a long story! And it starts - how could it not - with the seemingly invincible Spanish Empire. Wait, wait, wait, no, it's not a long story, and it will surprise you! Listen, listen, in the 16th century, the greatest empire on earth was the incredibly huge Spanish Empire. Yes? You know this. Well, its new emperor was born in Ghent, if you can believe it! Smack in the middle of Flanders. And it was the famed Keizer Karel, or 'Emperor Charles V'. And during his rule, there was a troublesome "new" religious movement amongst the people of his empire, called the reformation. That was of course the rise of Protestantism, as we all know. Yes, I know you know. So. In Germany, Lutheranism gained more and more ground before becoming the norm. But! Over in Flanders, it was Calvinism that was gaining traction. Not that it matters. What? Keep it short?!Ok, so, just to clear things up first, this region around Ghent was called East-Flanders. Of course, left of East-Flanders, you would find West-Flanders which borders on the north-sea, a rich and prosperous region known in Europe for its textiles, just an hour's boat ride away from England, a major trading partner as you well know. But it might surprise you to learn, though, that actually.. actually... historical Flanders as a whole was shaped very differently than what is called Flanders today!Historical Flanders stretched along that same North-sea, from France to the Netherlands from cities like Lille and Duinkerke (Dunkirk) in what's now France, up through West-Flanders with Bruges, Kortrijk and Ieper. East-Flanders to the right. But then it stretches further north! Along the North-sea up, further north, further and further to into today's Netherlands: the region still known as "Zeeuws-Vlaanderen", also known as "Zeeland". Anyways... That was what was Flanders looked like back when the emperor Charles V was born, and it actually spanned what's now parts of three separate countries. It has never been its own country, and at the time it was even known solely as a province. Now, this province and sixteen other ones across today’s Belgium, Netherlands and Luxemburg were bunched together as a whole by the emperor for tax-reasons! This is important. What did he call them? Simply the "seventeen provinces". What else?And this taxation cash-cow for the empire was SUPREMELY important. Can you imagine, even when bringing in galleon after galleon of stolen Inca gold from their brutal colonization of the new world, the Spanish Empire's biggest stream of income was STILL these "seventeen provinces"! More than 50 percent in taxes from the entire Spanish Empire still came from the "Seventeen".How rich were these provinces, then? Pretty rich. Pretty rich. The region within today’s Flanders next to East-Flanders - but actually, if you think about it, it's doesn't make much sense to call it that because, how can there be more of Flanders east of East-Flanders? It doesn't make sense, right? - Anyways, that was of course was the powerful and rich Brabant region, and this province stretched from Brussels to Mechelen to Antwerp, the fabulously wealthy financial and trading center? Do you know about Thomas Moore? The book Utopia? Well, he studied in Brabant while writing it. Yes. Leuven university. And it was printed first in Leuven too. So, basically, it was all pretty prestigious down in Brabant. Anyways, the province goes even further up north into what is now the Netherlands as well. What was I saying again?Oh, yeah, so, the Spanish Empire seemed unbeatable, grand, great, brutal, merciless and while its might spanned the entire globe, it was their taxes on "the seventeen" that financed more than half of its expensive conquests and wars. I know I already said that, Kenny!! And here's why. After Keizer Karel had set up this sweet, sweet “seventeen” cash-cow... along came the next emperor...He was the WORST! His father, good old Keizer Karel, was tolerant of the protestants, because he didn’t want to lose the regions of his empire or whatever, famously stating: "Cuius Regio, Eius Religio". But then came... Philip... Philip the second, you guys, the worst of the worst. Really creepy guy, a crazy religious fanatic that happened to become the next EMPEROR. Guess what he did? Yes, he fumbled the entire empire, because he felt like he needed to START A FULL WAR on Protestantism. And it was called. Exactly. The inquisition!! Guys, are you still listening? Yes, it has to do with the name of Bergen County!So Philip started the ACTUAL inquisition, right? And it has everything to do with how Protestantism was 'ravaging' his precious cash-cow, the "seventeen"! And even though the money had never stopped coming in steadily straight into his coffers, he really wanted to DO THE WAR. He then famously said he would even 'sacrifice his entire empire and his own life a hundred times over' to eradicate Protestantism. The guy had no chills.The idea that people could interpret the Bible for themselves (Bibles were copied in Latin only, common people weren't allowed to read them, even if they somehow could read LATIN), have a personal relationship with the divine, (something only anointed kings and emperors and the clergy were allowed to have), and being able to understand church law they were subjected to for themselves (also only reserved for the clergy), really PEEVED the guy. Long story short, Philip really, really didn't want to share the power.In the "Seventeen" however, Calvinism was becoming EVEN MORE popular. From Henegouwen to Flanders to Brabant and all the way up north, people were like: ummm, this is pretty nice being able to think for ourselves, now that we have the printing press. We like discussing our faith amongst ourselves and seeing how we feel about it in stead of being told how we need to feel about it in the priest's sermons. It's pretty cool!Well, not on Phillip's watch, it wasn't. The result: they were burned. They were hunted. Bounties were placed on whoever could identify a protestant, they were dragged and publicly executed, hanged, beheaded, tortured. Their land and possessions? Taken away. Their friends and families? Infiltrated. The public sphere? A hunting ground. Commercial transactions? Even higher! What’s that? I’M GETTING THERE! So, Philip's inquisition was a super complicated secret intelligence TOOL, made especially to make any region so unbearably TOXIC for people identifying as protestant, that they could only yield, run, or simply die under the inquisition's 'blood tribunal'.Goes without saying, the inquisition’s assault was so brutal that the people of Flanders sent a whole-ass petition to the satellite court of the Spanish Empire in Brussels, the court of Margareta, Philip's auntie. The petition was to ask her to 'please ease up a little' on the siege, as it was effectively destroying everything. She did ease up, calling back the inquisition from Flanders for as long as she would discuss the petition with Philip back in Madrid who - unlike his father who was born in the region- never, ever travelled to the seventeen.By the way did you know that Philip’s grandmother, Keizer Karel’s mother, Johanna, famously went crazy and was locked up in a tower down there in Madrid? We don’t know that she was actually crazy though, but the guys that took over her role as regent sure were convinced!Meanwhile, the protestants in West-Flanders organized their famous 'hedge sermons' outside the city walls since they weren't allowed a church of their own inside. Soon, word of these sermons would spread far and wide and these sermons started numbering in the tens of thousands people gathering there! So, one thing leads to another and they end up discussing what they were forced to endure under the inquisition and how to strike back, right, but not at the actual people that betrayed them, that would be a contradiction to what they stood for. No. They struck back at the heart of what the region treasured most of all: their precious, highly expensive and widely revered pieces of art, which Calvinists considered false idols consolidating false power.So during Margareta's pause, they organized and... did it. They destroyed all art in churches, cathedrals, monasteries, maiming every kind of treasure they could find there, leaving it behind in pieces in full sight for everyone to see, just to make their point. This blow was called the 'beeldenstorm' and still today, this is seen as a huge, huge loss of cultural heritage all happening in one single blow. But Philip couldn't be happier! He was ecstatic! Why? Well, NOW, he finally had his reason to go even further and double down on them... Yes, it was Philip's ultimatum.You know? The ultimatum? Philip’s ultimatum? The one where he forced all the protestant families of the "seventeen" where he was able to brutally push back the reformation - basically today's border between Belgium and the Netherlands - to either conform to Catholicism or GET OUT. Yes. Really. Families fled. By the thousands. It was an exodus. From the sacking of Doornik in Henegouwen to the sacking of Antwerp up in Brabant, the richer city folk didn’t have trouble moving north, but the farmers, well, they were having a rough time. Most of them couldn’t really adjust to city life. ESPECIALLY the Walloon community that had settled in Leiden. They hated it so much compared to their home they were FORCED OUT OF, they volunteered to CROSS THE ATLANTIC and settle where there literally was nothing at all, just wilderness. But they wanted to farm again, and they wanted to live, like, fully protestantilly.What’s the point? Of this story? Well, the first child ever to be born as a citizen of New York? Well, that was the child of the Walloon couple Georges Rapailliet and his Wife Catalina Tricot, also from the region of Henegouwen, just like that old rascal mr. Minuit, duping the Native Americans the FIRST CHANCE HE GOT.Anyways, as Philip’s empire started crumbling and breaking up following his inquisition - destroying the cities he used to get that sweet, sweet cash from, the provinces where the inquisition didn’t manage to bring down their hammer - were even booming EVEN HARDER than before. Just crazy rich. Amazingly rich, man. Got obsessed with tulips at one point, but anyways that was further down the line. What was I saying? Oh, right. That’s why the Walloons were the first who wanted to settle along the Hudson, because the rest wanted to stay to ride the wave of the markets going up.And THAT is how a Dutch ship called Nieuw-Nederlandt crossed the Atlantic filled with 30 French-speaking Walloon families to drop them off in the wilderness and they went from persecuted to two generations later becoming the most powerful and wealthy families in the new world. In fact – What? What does it have to do with Bergen? Bergen is a city in Henegouwen, right? Yes, Mons. WE’VE BEEN THERE, KENNY!”
"Jochen, I just asked what this place was called. Jesus! Can you stop?"
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
We were in a helicoptre heading to headquarters in Manhattan, but Pieter wasn't enjoying the stunning view. He kept his eye on Jochen and touched his right nostril with his pointing finger, saying: “I see you.”
“What? You see what?”
“Nothing more than what we’ve all noticed, Jochen,” said Pieter.
"OK, let's stop pretending. The case is solved, now, right? It's Jochen," said Layla.
"The AI was right all along", remarked Kenny.
“What? Why?”
“Whenever we see you go off like that,” said Pieter, “Brother, you’re in your element. You’ve been here before!”
“Please, Pieter! Are you insane?”
“Mais, évidamment,” said Jean-Baptiste. "You knew about the restaurant, the head-chef, tout! And then you reveal you work at Paepe Investment? It's clear to us. Complètement."
“And the book,” said Pieter, “The book.”
“What about it?”
“You wrote a book... about billionaires... and we’re expected to just accept that that doesn’t have anything to do with this?”
“I can't believe it," said Céline, almost inaudibly.
"Guys, come on. I told you! Just because I wrote a book about a specific one percent amongst the one percent. Which is by the way just a title that sounded good. So, you can leave it alone already. We're flying over Manhattan in a helicoptre, guys! I mean, take in the view!"
For the tiniest moment, everyone looked out onto the wilderness of skyscrapers, an almost surreal landscape, and allowed themselves to be wowed. But it didn't last long.
"So what happened?" asked Pieter.
"What?" said Jochen, pretending he couldn't hear through the chopper's mechanical noise.
"What happened? Why was it a dud?"
"Really, Pieter?"
"Yes, really!"
“Guys! We’re landing at the heliport in three minutes,” said Ariadne into the little microphone on our headsets. "We don't have time for this!"
“I don’t care. Make it under three minutes then!”
Ariadne then gestured towards Jochen.
"OK. Make it quick. The company SUV will be waiting to take us from West 30th street to Hudson Yards."
"Since when does she give you orders, Jochen?" said Céline with eyes like knives.
"I can only answer one question at a time, guys!"
The helicopter was getting closer and closer to the buildings that had been shining and shimmering in the distance.
"Well?" asked Pieter. "Two minutes!"
"Well, I submitted my book to my editor, who was super excited at first but then after a while they wouldn't get back to me and then... I was informed that they wouldn't take the book. They wouldn't publish it."
Everyone looked at each other.
"Why?" Asked Céline.
"They never said."
"We're here!" said Ariadne, as the helicopter was now manoeuvring in place, lowering itself onto the dock carefully. Jochen quickly took off his headset, making it impossible for anyone to grill him any further and seconds later we all got off. We were greeted by a man in a striking suit, shaking our hands and trying to tell us his name, but no one could hear it over the noise. Then, he immediately took Ariadne aside and asked us to proceed further to the elevator accompanied by what seemed like a bodyguard.
"There's a situation," we heard him say as the chopper had taken off again and the elevator doors were closing.
Even as we got into the black SUV that was waiting for us in the basement, with the bodyguard waiting outside as he closed the door behind us, Pieter didn't relent.
"So? What then?"
"What do you mean, what then?" sighed Jochen.
"You seriously can't ask us to believe that whatever you were investigating didn't ruffle any feathers."
Jochen nervously looked out the mirrored window.
"What's taking her so long..."
"Don't mind that," said Pieter. "How can you spend five years investigating a book, and have nothing to tell about it?"
"I... I-"
The bodyguard opened the door and Ariadne stepped inside. She was clearly stressed, but after inhaling a lot of air she suddenly smiled wide and immediately started talking over Jochen
"OK, guys, amazing, right? We're in New York, New York! What do you guys think? Isn't it just stunning? So, next, we're going to visit the board at headquarters as promised. Don't be nervous, we're just going to tell you what you can expect about how we... work, basically. Exciting, right?"
"That fake smile doesn't really work on us," said Pieter. "What's the problem?"
"What do you mean," said Ariadne, trying to maintain the smile as her eyes changed.
"The guy who greeted us just now-"
"Oh, didn't you catch his name? That's our chairman of the board, Leonard."
"Of course we didn't hear him. We were standing right next to a helicopter! But we did hear him say there was a situation!"
"How did you..." for a split second she lost her composure just a little, but she recalibrated quickly. "Well, there is. There's been a leak. Word has gotten out. Disney and Netflix have already offered to buy us in a firesale and they have been stating it in the press. We didn't want this in the press. But, here we are."
"Disney?" asked Layla, "And Netflix?"
"Netflix has the highest offer, since they really want to try and launch another franchise. But they're famous for doing away with..."
She caught herself babbling.
"With what?" asked Céline.
"With the board."
"Ah," said Pieter, crossing his arms. "You guys want to keep your jobs, just like everyone else, am I right?"
"I..." said Ariadne.
"Exactly," said Leonard, entering the car. The bodyguard closed the door and immediately the SUV started moving. Light streamed in and suddenly we were right in the centre of the busy streets of Manhattan.
"We are exactly like you. There isn't much difference, though it may seem that way! You're exactly, right; we would like to keep our jobs! I bet you know the feeling. But, listen, that's not just for our sake. It's because we've been doing so well at keeping the Paepe Holding growing as much as it had made for decades, only ever increasing value. And value is what you need to pay off that corporate debt to keep the company as is."
"And what's keeping us from turning to Disney or Netflix, then?"
"What is keeping you? I..." Leonard turned to Ariadne.
"Absolutely nothing," said Ariadne. "Except the legacy of your Uncle, kept intact, of course."
"Yes, this is something you need to understand, guys," Leonard continued. "I'm not just chairman of the board. I'm the protector of your dear Uncle's legacy. His life's work! We honor his vision. From his very first books, to the comics, this whole universe he built from nothing but his imagination! We helped make it a reality. We know the work that was put in, the emotion. We want to keep honoring that, keep making it work - we want to honor the story, the characters, keep them engaging, right? Reach more audiences, but stay true to what your Uncle stood for."
"Oh, interesting," said Pieter, "I'm curious. What did our Uncle stand for?"
"That's what I would like to know too," said Nele.
Leonard seemed puzzled. He looked again to Ariadne.
"I understand that you weren't close to your Uncle -"
"I have to correct you there," said Pieter. "HE wasn't very close to US."
"Fine. He wasn't close to you. But would you throw away a legacy, he did in the end want to share with you, despite everything?"
"Clever," said Kenny, "She didn't even answer the question. She answered with another question."
Kenny surprised Ariadne by speaking up now. He hadn't said a word since the car ride to the Paepe Film Studios in Bergen County. After beholding the 70.000 square feet of soundstage, he had become silent as a gravestone.
"I believe," said Leonard, as the SUV took another turn, leading into yet another street of stunning buildings, "That your uncle stood for hard work, integrity, grit, passion. You can see it in the characters he wrote, the stories he told, the worlds of imagination he built. Those wonderful characters, as famous as any celebrity. No! Even more famous! People don't forget your uncle's characters, they stick, they remain relevant. People can't forget them like they might do the latest trend."
"I actually think you're not far off," said Céline, scratching her neck and looking the other way, "Because you didn't mention kindness, nor compassion!"
Leonard glanced at Ariadne again, who, by raising her brows signalled to him 'See what I have been dealing with?'. He gave her a stern stare-down, saying: "I thought it was all in the bag!"
The SUV pulled up to the VIP entrance and a lovely young head of communications introducing themselves as Gabriel, shook our hands as we got out and they shouted to the journalists that had gathered outside that we didn't have any comment.
"I see why we needed to enter through the VIP," said Ariadne to them. "Has it been this crazy all day?"
"Pretty much," said Gabriel, and Stop! What are you thinking?! They will be taking the executive elevator straight to C-suite."
We had no idea what this all meant, but apparently, this elevator didn't stop anywhere else but the executive floors. Back home this might have seemed excessive, but here... Looking through the glass back of the elevator as it went up, it was incredible. We were taking the elevator up to the highest offices, but needless to say, we were floored.
The next part was equally as overwhelming. Constantly having the unbelievable view over Manhattan as the backdrop to everyone on the board introducing themselves and asking about us, I felt like there was a certain ringing in my ears. I tried to put my finger in there a few times, and one of the board members noticed.
"Yes, happens to me all the time," he said warmly, "Name's Connor, Connor O'leary."
"I'm Benjamin, Benjamin de Walters."
We shook hands.
"Are you one of the..."
"No. No. I'm the notary."
"Oh, I see," he looked me up and down, "Need to make everything work on the other side, right?"
"Right," I said but before I could say anything further, he had proceeded to shake other hands.
"If you would please follow me here," said Leonard, "We can all have lunch and discuss the details of our... understanding."
I saw Ariadne take a deep breath as we entered the equally astonishing suite, but, weirdly, we saw sitting on the sidelines in little desk chairs a number of well-dressed what seemed like office workers, laptops open and knodding to us as we sat down.
"Don't they -" Céline suggested as she hesitantly passed by them and took a seat, rather uncomfortably.
"Oh, don't mind them. They're just the lawyers that are going to write the memorandum of our understanding as we speak and have lunch here. It saves us a lot of time!"
"Wait," said Pieter, "So everything we say is... it's going to mean we agree to whatever you propose or what?"
"No, not at all, that is not how it works. We want to find a way to make it work for all of us! In the end, you're going to be effectively our bosses! We just want to save time, just in case you might... loose time talking needlessly to the likes of Netflix or Disney."
"I see," said Pieter who glanced at Kenny.
"Just sit down," said Jochen, who had quickly found his namecard and took his seat.
"Where have I heard that before," said Pieter.
He only now noticed the namecards.
"Does it matter who sits where?" he asked.
"Oh," Leonard sounded clearly very surprised,"Oh, no. No, of course not. Sit anywhere."
I had found my namecard and sat down next to Sarah Laloup, CFO, as was stated on her namecard. After Ariadne and chairman Leonard, she was clearly the most important person in the company.
"I'm sure this lunch will go well," she said to me, voice both soft and firm, like a weighted blanket.
"Well, if that's the case," said Pieter.
"Et c'est parti..." whispered Layla to Jean-Baptiste.
"Then I'd actually rather sit THERE," said Pieter, pointing to the seat opposite.
"Why, that's not a problem at all," said Leonard, his panicked eyes shooting across the table.
He was pointing at my seat.
"Oh," I said, "Should I..."
"I don't..." said Sarah, hesitantly.
"Yes, please," said Pieter already rushing over to the other side of the table before I had the chance to get up. As soon as I got out of my seat, he sat down in it, as if he didn't have any time to spare.
"Well, I hope everyone's happy with their seat, now," said Leonard and sat down too. He was sitting at the head of the table, with Ariadne sitting at the other end. Behind him on a translucent giant screen, the logo of the Paepe Holding was waving about like a flag.
"Pardon me," I said as I sat down on the chair Pieter just left vacant and I looked to my left. It was Connor. "I never got to ask what you did at the company,"
As if he had to muster all courage to talk to me, he simply sighed towards me, not even making eye-contact: "I'm the head of the gaming division."
Then it struck me why the namecards had been important. I looked across the table, CFO Sarah clearly had a hard time trying to make smalltalk with Pieter, who looked at her as if she was spewing lie after lie after lie at him. He turned to Kenny repeatedly, giving him eyes saying 'what is she going on and on about?'.
"So you like..." she hesitated, "Fashion, right? Dior, Schiaparelli?"
"I..." said Pieter, then his face changing into a relaxed scepticism again, "Why, yes, I admire the designers, yes, how did you know? But I can hardly afford any of that."
"That will soon change, my friend," said Sarah, not to Pieter, but rather to the whole table.
Everybody, especially the boardmembers, laughed, with some of the Paepe's laughing along awkwardly. But as the short burst of friendly laughter died down, Pieter piped up with a rather sarcastic loud, scathing laugh.
"Hahaha!! Ah, yes, indeed. My POOR days will finally be over. Hoera! What, did you read that about me in your little file? Seriously, don't pretend we have anything in common, lady."
This was exactly what Leonard had feared, and he made eyes with Connor to jump in.
"Say, Pieter," tried Connor, desparately, "Have I told you about the exciting new developments at our gaming division, because -"
"Well, if you're already calling them 'exciting', they surely must be! Yes. I like to game as well...." Pieter sighed loudly, "Seriously guys, don't any of you at least have some finesse."
The board member looked at one another, scared.
"They can't all be smoothtalkers like you, Pieter," sneered Céline, "And you haven't even given Leonard the chance to explain anything!"
"Well, then, he should speak up, then."
Suddenly, everyone at the table turned to Leonard. You could tell from the poor man's flushed face and fast-blinking eyes he was adjusting course in real-time, but then when he started speaking, his deep, reassuring voice just sounded like it could say nothing wrong. And he didn't.
"Listen, we know this is all sudden to you guys. And we shouldn't pretend that it hasn't caused a shock for every single one of us in this room. So here's the bottom line: we want to keep the company as is. We have the means to do so. We want you all to sign up for the job of owning this company, equally. But make no mistake, we will be doing the work for you! Yes, there is going to be corporate debt for a... formidable amount of time, admittedly so! But I guarantee, it will pass before you can say Tintin twice! The board has decided we will not be demanding bonus increases during this time, as a sign of solidarity."
"Here, here!" said the boardmembers and they raised their glasses.
"Agreed!" cried Layla and Jean-Baptiste, Jochen and Céline.
But Kenny and Pieter stared at one another with similar frowns.
"You would do that?" asked Pieter.
"Yes, we solemnly swear," said Leonard with his hand on his heart, winking.
"Hardly the time to be winking," said Kenny, again inviting the sting of Ariadne's hawkish eyes.
"I agree with my brother," said Pieter, "I can't believe you guys."
"You must believe us. We mean it! I told you. We're no different from you. We are trying to keep our jobs, just as you are."
"Don't even try that bullshit on me. You guys land on your feet whether Paepe stands or falls!" You're all just too lazy to find another cash-cow's teet to suckle on."
"Pieter! Stop it right now!" cried Jochen.
"The thing is," said Pieter, "The thing that bothers me is that you would knowingly make a MURDERER basically your boss, and you have no qualms with that as long as you keep your job?"
"A murderer... I don't know if that's entirely true, Pieter."
"Well, we're all still very much under investigation, now aren't we, Jochen?"
"What are you looking at me for again?"
"Because you still haven't shared about why you had to lie to us all, to your wife, to everybody about what you were doing with your professional life for ten years!"
"And what's it to you? You are hardly the one to point fingers," said Leonard, putting down his wineglass softly on the glass table. "Since you've been involved with the drug maffia for a very, very long time. Or am I mistaken?"
"Well, you're proving my point for me, now aren't you?" said Pieter.
"Hardly, Mr. Paepe."
"Oh, so it's Mr. Paepe, now, is it?"
"Well, you are Mr. Paepe after all," his voice sounded as buttery as it had since the very first moment he spoke, "And the point I was trying to make is that we not only offer the intent of cooperation, we want to create an understanding between all of us that we will do everything in our power to give every single person here at this table what they need to make our cooperation run smoothly, the company run smoothly. Anything that would pose, let's say, difficulties stemming from the past or whatever before our cooperation, basically, we can... make it go away..."
He said that last part as lightly as possible, then sipped again from his wineglass. Hardly anyone at the table was eating. Wonderful spread, though.
"I don't know," said Pieter looking into Kenny's eyes, like they were having a telepathic conversation.
Then Céline burst out: "He's offering you a clean slate, and you still hesitate? You tell me you would go back home, back to your girl, and explain that you turned down 800 grand per year and your record struck clear, squeeky clean, just because of principle? Tell me, what principles does a drug-dealer have?"
"I don't do that anymore!" shouted Pieter. "How many times do I have to tell you!"
"But they're still coming to you, aren't they?"
"Because I need to pay-" he looked at Leonard, who had his eye on him just a little to intensely, and lowered his voice, "Just because I still need to pay off my debt to them. I told you!"
Céline burst out laughing.
"You are the most pathetic person I have ever known in my entire life, you know that? And you're going to sit there in the most spectacular room we've ever been in in our entire lives, in MANHATTAN, getting a deal that would set us all up for life, and STILL you would choose to ruin things for us?!"
"You don't know what a person has to go through before they are forced to make do! Sometimes they DO have to resort to means they aren't proud of! But that doesn't mean they can't have principles!"
"Oh, that's rich! Who is the martyr now, huh? Hypocrite is what you are. For the last time, Pieter, sit down. And sign. For our sake."
After hearing this, even Kenny relented.
"Céline's right, brother. You have to sign. For our sake. We don't really know if Uncle Johan was killed by one of us and if he was, they are willing to make amends now. They're not trying to keep things for themselves anymore. If the murderer did kill Uncle Johan for money's sake, they sure changed their mind now."
"Is that enough for you to forgive murder?" said Pieter.
"I just know," said Kenny shaking his head, "I just know, we could all have it good now. All the troubles, it can all just be in the past. Shouldn't we let it be?"
Everyone looked to Pieter, clearly taking his brother's words in.
"Whatever the trouble is," Leonard repeated, "We can make it go away."
Pieter looked at Leonard a while, his mind clearly racing a hundred miles an hour and he said: "Fine. I'll sign. Just on one condition."
"Yes? Anything."
"Jochen should tell us all here and now at this table what his years-long investigation was about."
"Mais, enfin!" cried everyone.
"I'm serious!"
Amongst the commotion, and seeing that his brother wouldn't give up, Jochen said: "It's fine. It's fine. I'll tell you. I was investigating tech bros at first, but then I got even deeper than that, I got sidetracked into this crazy, like, extremist little faction within the one percent and my publisher wanted me to investigate it as soon as I told him about it."
"What did you find, then?"
Jochen hesitated.
There was a weird silence, particularly because the board was now making eyecontact with one another too.
"What did you find,, then, Jochen?" said Céline, sternly, "What did you find that you had to lie to me for, all this time."
"I... Well... There's this extremist Christian faction, that actually believes, like actually really believes they are meant to be the richest on the planet, to prepare for the second coming of Christ."
Another stunned silence.
"What?"
"How could I not investigate that? I mean, as a journalist? So the thing is that they believe there's a passage, right in the apocalypse or somewhere in the bible about there being 144.000 elect who are going to be saved. The chosen ones. And they believe that their riches are - who would contradict it - a blessing from God. Their billions are a blessing from God himself, which means, personally blessed, chosen... 'elect', right? But then what that also implies is this: if they are chosen and elect and blessed by their billions, then, those that aren't rich are... well, not blessed."
"Cursed," said Pieter.
"Well, yes, in their warped logic, they would be cursed by God, right. If you're not blessed, you're cursed. It's like they're thinking in extremes only."
"Clearly," said Kenny.
"So, I investigated further. What on earth can make them just simply accept this idea? And basically it's because they need to have a reason to own so much more than they could ever possibly need, and still be fine with their faith. So they put it this way: their spirit is just innately so good, so pleasing to God that they were blessed with immeasurable wealth; numbers that would make Uncle Johan look like a pauper. To them, even he was poor! And everyone else that's poor is poor because, God basically just... hates them. He has cursed them with poverty, with a hard life, a struggle for money, even for scraps and that's simply because they're innately not good, not blessed by God, not elect, not chosen."
There was a strange tension in the room, like you could cut the air with the cheeseknives strewn about on the charcuterie boards on the table.
"Why?" cried Céline, "Why would you want to write about this crazy conspiracy? So you brought in your manuscript to your publisher and it was over for you? For goodness sake, Jochen, you have a family to take care of! Why would you go and piss off these clearly disturbed people?"
"Because, Céline, I... I have to! It's part of my duty as a journalist. How could I not write about that, it's exactly in line with everything I had written before."
There was a collective sighing.
"You wrote a book on this."
"Yes."
"You realize this is basically a conspiracy theory."
"Yes."
Céline sighed heavily and then said: "You know you put your family at risk by getting into something like that."
"I love you Céline", said Jochen, "But yes. I took a risk. And it cost me everything. I wrote the book on why and how common people are forced to sustain society with less and less means, whilst the wealthiest are betting on its collapse. And making EVEN MORE money doing so. And I lost my entire vocation due to my work. I underestimated the scale of their influence, even if this was just a one percent of the one percent, it's also everyone else trying to get to their 144.000. Everyone's else is also running frantically trying to find a way to get to the top of the list, getting into the 144.000 at any cost - basically at the cost of... society. And they absolutely don't care it gets people of limited means into more financial trouble. They absolutely don't care because if you're in financial trouble, because you should repent and take a look at your sinful spirit. But if you're incredibly rich! That's another story because you're part of these elect 144.000, you're forgiven. In other words if you're rich you can be as sinful as you like, it doesn't matter, there must be something so innately good about you, else why would God heap so much reward on you? Right? If God himself can look past their sins, and still keep blessing them with more billions coming in each year, well, who are they to question, right? In their minds, it all makes sense." "
"You idiot. You had more than yourself to consider. How could you be so smart but so stupid!"
"I know..." replied Jochen, voice cracking, "I... Are you happy now, Pieter?"
"I wouldn't say happy, but I am satisfied."
"My wife's right, you are sick."
"Go ahead, call me anything you like!"
Leonard gave it a whole other minute, sustaining an ecstatic look with Ariadne, before saying: "So we're all in agreement, then? We can finalize the memorandum of understanding?"
"Yes," said Pieter, grabbing a block of cheese and biting a chunk out of it.
Instantly, everybody cheered and champagne was popped. The disaster was averted. Ariadne and Leonard had secured the positions of everybody on the board. The company wouldn't be sold for parts, and the Paepe's had finally, after all, become rich, officially.
Then, a phone call. It was Kenny's phone.
"Oh, my gosh. Joyabel?! You're calling just at the right time!"
"I did? What happened?"
"We're rich! We made the agreement! It's official! Ben's here! The lawyers are writing it up! It's a done deal!"
"Oh, Kenny! I'm so happy! I'm coming! That's what I wanted to say! I'm coming over now!"
"Wait, you're here? You're in New York?"
Everyone turned to Kenny's phone, surprised.
"I just arrived!"
"Come on over! We're celebrating!" shouted Ariadne into the phone.
"Yes!" cried Joyabel, "I just got off the plane! I'm coming over!"
And indeed, she was. Before we knew it, Joyabel had joined the celebration that had since moved to one of the other suites, where we could now peruse the leather or suede sofas to enjoy our champagne, a welcome change. I hugged her and told her I was surprised to see her, after all the commotion at Usufruct.
Without anyone else seeing, she handed me a tablet and told me I should videocall the rechercheur, who would explain why she was there, saying: "I'm here to tell you that the both of us have to make sure everybody gets on the plane back again. Because we can only use the recordings back in Belgium. Van Der Smet will explain. Call him."
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
Imagine being so fed up with people supporting the nazis and the war in Europe, that you make an entire film pointing the finger at fascist support coming from the highest echelons of American society and it features the Statue of Liberty so heavily that the film is forever connected to the thing? Yes, that happened in real life. In 1941. The film was called "Saboteur". The director? You guessed it. The one and only Alfred Hitchcock! What did you expect?!How did he get away with making such a scathing film? Well, he promised the studios he would do a remake of a British film called 'the 39 steps', a very popular "wrong man" thriller, but a version that would take place in America. A man who discovers sabotage at a military facility, is himself blamed for it (a fire extinguisher filled with gas). Simple enough! And the rollercoaster chase would start in Los Angeles and end on top of the Statue of Liberty itself. But he was clever. He deliberately omitted the fact that he was fed up with the many influential elites at the time openly supporting the nazis, arguing whether they were actually good for business and for protecting their wealth, whilst the United Kingdom, his home, was burning, and that he would make it the entire point of his film. He portrayed a dazzling New York charity ball as a cover for funding an undercover fascist terrorist network, with the fabulously sparkling top socialite being the spearhead of the operation. And this was way before the Manchurian Candidate! Can you imagine?Then, in pure Hitchcock style, he really drove the point home. He had a shootout scene taking place in front of a shoot-out scene projected on a screen in a cinema (Radio City). The audience in his film doesn't have a clue at first, but then realizes that it wasn't happening on screen only, it was happening in real life amongst them, killing some of the audience members. And they panick. This is what Hitchcock had hoped would be the take-away message: the reality of nazis taking over was not just on the newsreels. It could become a reality, even in the land of the free.Now, Hitchcock worked with several writers on the film, but the dialogue specifically was written by the witty Dorothy Parker, who was known for the famously acerbic lines the iconic Bette Davis would deliver flawlessly in previous films, and she was also known for supporting left-wing politics, so Hitchcock chased her specifically to spice up the dialogue shortly before they started shooting the film. And boy, did Dorothy deliver.During the writing stage of the film, however, Pearl Harbor was attacked, and by the time the film came out in 1942, everybody in the country suddenly had always been against the nazis! To have a film pointing the finger at this point had become pretty risky. Dorothy had literally predicted what some of them would end up doing in case the nazis lost, even pinpointing the exact strategies and places they would "hide out for a while" before coming back to the country. Hitchcock might have come up with the striking visuals for the film, but it was Dorothy's dialogue specifically that really chastised and humiliated them.After the war was won, the elites didn't forget about Dorothy. She was shunned and excommunicated from New York society for this 'slight' against them. After the war, during the Red Scare, she was targeted heavily with a 1000 page FBI case against her, along with other writers who had been outspoken anti-fascists during the war. Now they stood accused of anti-American communist sympathies.In the sixties, poor Dorothy died alone in her apartment, childless, much like Johan did, and left her estate entirely to Martin Luther King, whose cause she supported wholeheartedly. When he himself also died only a year later, her estate and rights - which still earned royalties from these films - went to the NAACP, who had built a memorial to her, since she was blocked from being buried at her family plot. They resolved it now, however, and today, Dorothy Parker's ashes lie in the Parker family plot in Brooklyn.We're looking at the very same Statue of Liberty right now, at least I am. I brought my binoculars along just to see the torch. I know they didn't film the scene where the saboteur was hanging from the torch on the actual torch, but still, I like to imagine it was. Glorious statue this is. Unfortunately, I'm the only one looking at the thing. This family excursion was supposed to be part of the sightseeing celebration of the final agreement everyone had made, but since Joyabel had returned, everyone was just looking at her.Kenny, of course, hadn't allowed anyone to actually really talk to her, as he had been holding and kissing her like she had come back from the dead."I didn't know how long I wasn't going to be able to talk to you for," said Kenny sobbing, "I thought I might never even get to see you again!""Don't be so dramatic!" said Joyabel, seeming much more confident ever since she re-joined the party, "The concierge just knew me because I was... working there sometimes too. As a housekeeper. And he panicked.""You were?""You were?!" said Jochen."You leave them alone, brother," said Pieter, "You've been in a foul mood ever since we came down the Hudson Yards building again.""Well, you should know why.""I didn't mean to humiliate you.""Well, it did seem like it.""I just wanted to know if -""- If I was a murderer or not.""Exactly.""And?""You're not.""Good.""Good."Kenny then said to Joyabel, holding her face lovingly in his hands: "I just wish you told me. I wouldn't want you cleaning anywhere just to keep us afloat!""And that's exactly why I didn't say anything.""Oh, honey."They kissed. It seemed that was enough for everyone to suspend their suspicions of her, except Nele who got red in the face and ran over to me, putting herself between me and the my view of the Statue of Liberty."Where's Brenda, then?! Where is she?""I'm sorry. I wouldn't know, Nele. She's probably still back home. At the hospital.""I would remind you that none of this is binding, unless it's been officiated in Belgium, too.""My office is on it, Nele," I said."As long as she doesn't sign off on it, the deal still isn't official.""What has gotten into you?" said Pieter, "Aren't you her legal guardian? So, you get to put your signature there for her. Right?""That is right," I said.But then, unexpectedly, Joyabel turned to Nele."Brenda", said Joyabel, "Couldn't come on the plane with me, I asked Van Der Smet. It's because she's still under investigation and questioning.”“Why? How?” cried Nele with an amount of energy we hadn’t seen up until now."What's happening here?" asked Céline, also looking sideways at Joyabel ever since she returned."They found out that... Well...""Well, what on earth could they have found out?""They found her fingerprints. On the gun. alongside Uncle Johan's."Pieter started belly-laughing."But this whole investigation is a joke!" said Layla, "How can someone in a waking coma have used a gun to shoot someone? It's absurd!""Complètement!" affirmed Jean-Baptiste."It's unconscionable," said Céline."It just means that at this point, they have no real leads anymore. And they just want to blame someone harmless so that they can bury the case and we can all move on," said Pieter."But it's not fair," said Jochen, "The poor girl! Now she stands accused of murder on top of everything she's been through?""You know, it's not entirely impossible," said Nele."You mean to say, Nele, that you think it's possible that Brenda, your catatonic sister, had gotten up from her wheelchair, took a gun in her hand, and then shot our Uncle in the head? For what?" asked Kenny."Why not? It's not impossible!""You mean to say you think Brenda could have been be the secret billionaire all along, then?""I think it says a lot that Van Der Smet is staying behind to question her.""She can't even talk! How is he going to do that?""Maybe she can! It wasn't too long ago we thought the girl couldn't even pick up a knife, let alone use it to..." said Céline.Pieter laughed again, loudly."You have got to be kidding me! You mean to say you think she has been faking being in a waking coma? That she... used it to hide that she was a billionaire? Are you hearing yourself, Céline?"At that point, I was so glad to see Ariadne arrive and save me from the tired old conversation."You guys ready to get on the boat?" she handed everyone their tickets. "Amazing weather we're having! It's gonna be great!""Yes," said Pieter, "Let's get on the boat."We got on the boat, and the weather was wonderful. We were on the Hudson river. Sun was shining. It was glorious. Of course, the family wasn't having a good time. They had started, randomly, discussing Pieter's divorce."You tell them," said Pieter. "You tell them, Ben!""Tell them what?""Tell them. Mathieu had voluntarily waved his right to terugroepingsrecht on the house, right?""Yes, because he didn't want to sell it to buy another house as a couple. So he waved his rights and made it so that both of you guys owned the house he had bought, together. Yes.""There you go.""I'm talking about the other part," said Jochen, crossing his arms, looking as angry as I have ever seen him. "The part about why he left you.""Don't you dare bring that up!" cried Pieter, alarming other passengers, who were slowly backing away from us."I'm talking about -""- Careful!""I'm talking about the part where you gave him AIDS!"Pieter jumped towards Jochen and put his hands on his throat, strangling him. Céline started screaming. Kenny tried to get Pieter off Jochen, but he hadn't the strength, despite his bigger build."You take that back! Right now!" shouted Pieter.Our fellow passengers were looking very, very concerned and scared."Can anyone help?!" they yelled."But you did, right!" Jochen gurgled, "How do you like it being brought up again and again?"The boat attendant tried to help Kenny get them away from each other."We weren't bringing your book up again and again", said Kenny, "Now stop antagonizing Pieter!""Stop it!" shouted Layla, "Sit down the lot of you! Do you want me to forfeit the agreement? Because if this is what I'm going to have to deal with for the rest of my life, I'm out!"Hearing her, Pieter eased his grip and finally let go of Jochen."I told you a million times, we didn't get divorced because of the AIDS thing", said Pieter, panting, "It was the secret sex cult thing!""Mon dieu", sighed Jean-Baptiste, massaging his temples. "Encore.""The secret sex cult thing", sighed Layla, "What is the secret sex cult thing?!"Now, in stead of moving away from us, some passengers started to move closer, intrigued by what they were hearing."If anyone should take the blame about our divorce, it should be Mathieu, because he didn't tell me he was in a secret sex cult!""Of course he didn't tell you, it's a secret sex cult!" cried Jochen."Shut up!" shouted Pieter, and then continued explaining to Layla (and the other passengers): "He was part of a secret sex cult even before we were married. But I didn't know. Then all of a sudden he was kicked out. Because he got AIDS. But the thing is, he blamed ME for it.""True," said Jochen, "but you're leaving things out!""I'm not leaving anything out, I was getting there! So we did the test together after he got kicked out, and it turned out I suddenly had HIV too. But I didn't have it before we got married, right? If anyone gave someone AIDS, it was him who gave it to me! Anyways, I was so in love with Mathieu, that I said I could even live with that. Fool that I was. But he was the one who couldn't. Can you imagine? HE was mad at ME! Fuming!""J'comprend pas," said Jean-Baptiste, "Isn't testing positive on a STD the worst part? Who cares about some sex club?""Not a club. A cult! It’s been around for ages, apparently. Centuries! Whenever he talked about it, it was like, he was talking about some kind of religion. It was so weird. It was very much: if you're not part of it, you don't get it. And once you're inside, you get access to all these kinds of connections too, right. Powerful connections. Once they kick you out, you lose all their favors. You're out not just in there, but also out here.""Bizarre," said Layla to Jean-Baptiste."Members couldn't talk about being members, and when they would see each other out here, they would behave strangely to one another... apparently the would punish and push each other in the real world, all for the pay off during the secret sex cult orgy meetings. It's all very strange. Anyway, he filed for divorce, moved out. We weren't even married for one year.""But why was he so sure he didn't get AIDS in there?""He said it's because it's all very high end, and I mean highly organised. They make every man and woman get tested before every meeting. Or so Mathieu told me. Once you test positive for anything, you're out. Forever. But I didn't give it to him. I got tested before we got together and I was negative. I never cheated, so go figure.""Did you ever get re-tested?""No. Why should I? I thought Mathieu and I were faithful to each other. I don't just go about my day and assume my partner is in a secret sex cult.""Mais qu’est-ce que c’est que cette merde?" whispered Layla with hushed voice to her husband, "I... I don't think I can do it. I can't. Spend the rest of my life owning a company... avec lui?!""See, I knew it!" cried Céline, "I was right all along. You can't stand us! You've never really wanted to join our family because you… you hate us. You hate that you're part of this family. You think you're so much BETTER than us!"At this point, more passengers had started filming us."Sorry, Céline, if you're overhearing my private conversation to my husband, reacting to this whole secret sex cult thing! I don't know about you, but it's all very new to us.""Okay, Céline," Jochen put his hands on her shoulders and moved her closer to the railing, trying to calm her down, "We heard you. Let's... let's just enjoy the view.""I've had enough of taking in the view for one day. For all we know", said Céline, "Layla and Jean-Baptiste could be in a secret sex cult! Or maybe even two sex cults!""We're NOT in a secret sex cult!" shouted Layla.This particular part was delighting the passengers who were filming the whole altercation on their phones."But that's exactly what someone who is in a secret sex cult would say!" Céline shouted back."OK, turn the boat around!" Layla said to Ariadne."Layla, I just bought the tickets. I'm not steering... I'm not the captain.""She even wants out of the boat, can you imagine?" mumbled Céline, whilst Jochen was shushing her. "She can’t stand another second of being with us. Of course she would walk away, if she's the secret billionaire, it would all just simply go to her.""Shut up, everyone!" shouted Kenny violently, voice breaking, holding hands with Joyabel. "We're going to the hotel. Have some dinner. And we're going to enjoy it. Then we're going to go back to Belgium with Ben, and we're going to finalize this whole thing and have it be over and done with. Then we can all go our separate ways."Joyabel squeezed his hand firmly.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
“I don’t want to have breakfast at the hotel. I want to do the dessert for breakfast thing!”“Darling, we have to get on the jet in just a couple of hours. We won’t make it if we have to go all the way to the 24/7 breakfast place, get back here, pack our bags and then get on the helicopter.”We had been waiting in the lobby for Céline, deciding what we would do as a group before heading back. But when she had finally arrived, there was just more indecisiveness and fighting with Jochen. By now, we had all gotten so used to Jochen and Céline’s bickering, that it had become like a whale-sounds-white-noise track for sleep, lulling us all into disassociation. Layla and Céline, however, had already taken breakfast at the hotel and were out exploring the city some more. We would meet at the jet.“Just let them drop us off at the place with the SUV and have them wait for us there until we’re done.”“You mean right there in the street?”“Why not? They’ve got those suited bodyguards, right? It’ll be fine.”“My, you’ve gotten used to our new lifestyle, quick.”“Might as well.”Ariadne sighed.“Get the SUV out in front to pick us up,” she said to Gabriel, who immediately left the lobby to go down to the basement.“You guys want to come too?” asked Céline.“Well, we’ve been waiting for you the whole time, haven’t we?” said Pieter, annoyed. Kenny and Joyabel just looked at one another and giggled. They had been in an unbreakably good mood ever since she had returned.“Oh, you have?” said Céline, her face not matching her voice. She was looking at the entrance to see whether the black SUV had pulled up there yet.“Oh, it’s here!”As we entered the car, Ariadne was calling ahead to the 24/7 breakfast place to make sure we could get seated and served immediately.“Oh, there it is! There it is!” she said, pointing at it, as if spotting her favorite fairy tale character at Disneyland.“What’s so special about this place,” sighed Pieter.“You can do the dessert for breakfast thing there! I see the videos pop up all the time. It’s amazing! It looks really good, you'll see.”“You can make anything look good on video,” said Jochen. “It doesn’t say anything about how it tastes.”“I see you’re still in a bad mood, Jochen. I can’t understand it and I don’t have the time to. I have a video to record.”“Oh, so it’s about the video, is it?” said Jochen.“Well, why not? We’re here now, so we might as well. When in Rome!”"I feel sick," said Jochen, rubbing his stomach."Do you need a pill? I have one that helps with seasickness, but you can take it for car rides too," said Ariadne.Céline glared at her with an ice-cold stare, freezing Ariadne in place. We got out of the car sans Ariadne and Gabriel, and sat down to order waffles and pancakes topped with bananas and whipped cream and bacon and sprinkles and syrup. It did look pretty spectacular and I ended up taking a photo of the breakfast dish myself, something I almost never do.“Ben!” cried Céline, “You surprise me!”“Well, I have to admit. It really looks very tasty.”“Let’s dig in!” said Kenny.The food was so good that the only words heard at our table were “Mmmm!” and “Oh my God!”. Jochen, however, was just playing with his food.“We could eat absolutely anywhere in the whole city, and you would take us here?”Céline sighed and shook her head.“In case you didn’t notice, Jochen, everyone is enjoying it.”Jochen just shrugged and looked out the window.“Did you know after those Walloon families came to the wilderness here, they spent two years on their own before anyone else came?""Yes," sighed Pieter."And basically the Native Americans helped them stay alive, right.""Yes," said Kenny, "We know!""Ok, then."Jochen crossed his arms and left his breakfast waffle with whipped cream, bacon and syrup alone."Aren't you going to eat that?" asked Kenny."Oh, I am," said Jochen."Clearly, you're not.""Did I ever tell you about when they finally did set up their farms with supplies the WIC gave them after two years, what happened then?""Please, do tell," sighed Céline."When the Dutch West India Company saw the Walloons hadn't DIED out in the wilderness, they sent more families in. Dutch families. And they started to settle there too. The WIC famously sent 11 enslaved Africans as well to work in day shifts on infrastructure here, then of course it was called "Fort Amsterdam", specifically to work on roads, the brutal, hard work.""And then?" asked Céline. She wasn't really listening as she was focused on recording the pancakes and recording herself eating the pancakes."Don't encourage him, Céline!" cried Pieter."Well, half a century later," continued Jochen ignoring the chorus of sighs, "More and more Dutch families had started to settle here alongside the Walloons. The WIC had brought in even more enslaved Africans to work shifts on the infrastructure, first of all to build a defensive "walstraat" which would become Wallstreet. It was to keep the English out and the Native Americans too, ironically. Fun fact-""Fun? I doubt it," sighed Kenny."By that time, though, the original 11 enslaved Africans had already earned their "half-freedom" rights under the Dutch justice system - they got it because they had the right to an equal trial like any Dutchman, and they won their case and were granted their own family plots in Greenwich village as a result. The compromise is that their children would also need to earn their freedom rights under contract, just as they did, working day-shifts. After sunset and before sunrise they were free to do their own business and go where they so pleased. It all got taken away though. Even their property.""Why?""Well, the hostile English take-over. The English, after seeing the place booming in such a short time - and I mean booming: a population of 2000 by the middle of the 17th century, of which 300 were enslaved Africans contracted to the state, let's not forget - decided to waltz in with BATTLESHIPS and basically said: give us New Amsterdam, now, or we'll bomb the place to the ground. We have 120 cannons and we're not afraid to use them.""Then what happened?""The mayor said: Okay, let's fight! But the Walloon and the Dutch families that had come over to build their dream lives on the farms inside and outside the city walls, protested. They said, we'll listen to the terms. And the English gave them good terms. Except for the Africans. The English didn't want to give the same terms to them.""Why?""The Duke of York, after whom the city would eventually be named - yes, it's not named after the city of York, but the man himself, the Duke of York - owned a brutal slavetrading company. He desperately needed the location for his franchise! He wanted to open the market to private slave-ownership, not just the limited state monopoly as it had been under the Dutch. The families that had settled New Amsterdam were forced to accept the agreement, or simply lose everything. Ever since that moment in time, the Walloon and Dutch families banded together when all the new business came in, and they have ever since. But the sad part is...""Here we go," said Pieter."Oh, NOW we get to the sad part?!" said Kenny."The SAD part is," repeated Jochen, "Is that it took only two to three generations that these persecuted families, fleeing the oppressive inquisition in Europe, had become slave-owners themselves, denying other people their personal freedom and became rich beyond their wildest dreams because of it. Isn't it hypocritical?""I guess... But after three generations, people tend to forget, right? I mean, I don't know the story of my great-great-grandmother.""You don't? I do. You can look it up! And even so, you don't forget why your family moved halfway across the globe. You don't. How can you stand by and just accept when those enslaved Africans who helped build the place were now under a new ruleset that stripped them of their already limited citizen's rights and had become nothing but pure property to be bought and sold?""But, they couldn't all of them have been slave-owners, can they?" said Céline."I guess, but after the Duke of York set up the slave markets here, it spread like wildfire, so I'm not so sure," said Jochen, pensively. "Anyways, that's when Jonkheer became Yonkers, Vlissingen became Flushing, Breukelen became Brooklyn, het Rode Eiland became Rhode Island, Hoboken became... well, that one actually stayed the same. You get the idea.""Well..." said Pieter, glaring at Jochen. "I hope everyone feels energized after our last little activity in New York, and not DEFLATED at all."Jochen was looking very pleased with himself, arms still crossed, pouting his lips ever so slightly in a half-smile. His waffle dish still pretty much remained untouched."Did I say anything that wasn't true?""It most definitely is true," said Kenny, "But time and place, Jochen. Time and place...""I'm sorry, you guys," said Jochen, seemingly invigorated as everyone was sitting there depressed looking out at the street of Broadway. "Shall we go?""You are the absolute WORST!" cried Céline and stormed out of the restaurant, straight into the SUV, to a baffled Ariadne and Gabriel, looking up from their phones.The rest of us sighed and followed. Later when we got out of the chopper at the helipad, we met Layla and Jean-Baptiste at the lounge at the Teterboro airport. An icy greeting, however, after Jochen's storytime, none of the group really didn't seem to mind. Once the jet was ready, as if we were in a funeral procession, we boarded the plane and sat down in total silence.The jet taking off provided some distraction from the tenseness of the situation, however after we had been airborne a while, someone needed to say something. Unfortunately, it was Pieter."Anyone else thinks we should still talk to Disney or Netflix? Just in case?""No!" everybody shouted collectively."Alright, alright! Just asking.""Do you really want to reconsider? I mean, you would break up the legacy of Uncle Johan's life's work?""He's dead", said Pieter, "Who cares?""I care", said Jochen."Why, though", said Pieter, "Why? He didn't care for any of us, so why do you care about his legacy.""I don't know. Maybe I'm proud of him, somehow. I think deep down, after the past few days, we all are, just a bit, right?"Nele nearly choked hearing this."Proud?" said she, "Far from it.""Yes! Agreed! Speak for yourself", said Pieter."He was a troubled man", I said, finally. I couldn't keep silent anymore. I had spent the whole day yesterday standing by and listening, and before that, even in my own home. But in that moment I just felt like a fellow passenger. Nothing more. But also nothing less."He wasn’t a perfect man, but he was still a human being that had suffered and loved and had a complicated life, just like any one of us.""It hadn't occurred to me", said Céline, "That we could ask you why... Why our own uncle had been like… he had been.""Well, there really isn't much to say. He had become like that after the massive success of his books, but really that part of him had always been there. The part just gradually became the whole of the man.""But where did it go wrong?" asked Céline, "How did he become that way?""I couldn't say. But what I do know is that he had loved. And then he didn't. He told me she had become pregnant with his child. But for some reason they couldn't be together. I remember seeing him from going from most exhilarated to most defeated in a very short amount of time. Back then, he was still seeing his family, his brothers and his sister, much like you are now. And then, after his mysterious love fell away, out of his life, taking his child with her, he decided to flee the world in response.""He didn't want to be part of a world where he couldn't be with her. With his child", said Layla."Indeed", said I, "A sad story that only ended, I'm sorry to say, with his passing. He held her in his heart his entire life, and held onto her. Nothing else mattered to him. He started to disappear further and further into his work and into his house, into his estate. He didn't want to let this little sliver of love go, ever. Even if holding onto it meant it was coming at the expense of himself.""I can't imagine our cruel uncle Johan like that", said Nele, "This doesn't sound like him at all. Love? What does he know of the subject? He was a complete and total miser, just a miserable man. Unkind, unloving and lacking every sense of empathy. He didn't want to speak to anyone, he didn't want to deal with anyone. He wanted only to be by himself and surround himself with his riches. How horrible, a hateful man if I ever met one!""Nele!" uttered Céline, "Have some respect for the man, he's just died."Nele stared at Céline in disbelief, then, turned back around and stared at the window, sitting by herself as if no one else was on the jet."We didn't matter to him, so why should his story matter to us?" said Pieter."Because he's our uncle!" Jochen burst out despite himself."Ever the valiant defender of uncle Johan, my dear brother. It's become quite telling.""Telling of what?" Jochen growled."Guys, stop it! Just let Ben talk,” said Kenny. But I didn't have anything else to add.Everyone sat silent for a while and here and there an ear popped. Layla took a glass of champagne. Joyabel grabbed some of the snacks. Nele licked her teeth, audibly. A most disturbing sound."We're crossing the Atlantic now," said Céline, "We can hardly just sit here in silence the whole trip.""Agreed", said Ariadne, which earned her another mean look from Céline, "If you permit, I can talk a bit more about the estate.""I can't bear to hear another word about the estate, for goodness sake", said Pieter, scratching his head."What is it you would like to talk about then", retorted Jochen.It was at this moment that Pieter's eye suddenly twinkled, speeding back and forth from Ariadne to Jochen and back again to her, and then, staying fixed on Jochen. His face crumpled to a frown and after looking around first, as if anyone else would beat him to it, he spoke out:"Jochen, please! You can stop the charade now! You and Ariadne 'know' each other, clearly!""Well, yes, of course, I work at the Paepe investment firm", said Jochen, "She's the SFO CEO.""Oh, you do? Amazing! And how about you tell us about how well you actually know uncle Johan.""Ariadne and I just... Yes, we know each other", Jochen began."Excuse me?" gurgled Céline."Yes, we do. After I... well... she is the one that offered me the job I have now. There's nothing more to it.""Don't you try to pull the wool over my eyes", said Pieter, "You were just about to say how you guys know each other. It seems logical to me that you should know each other before she could offer you a job."Ariadne kept looking down. Pieter wasn't the only one noticing this now. Céline had too, and she was furious."What's this?" she said, trembling.Jochen hesitated. And with that hesitation, he had admitted unconsciously to everyone on the plane, that there was more to the story, that he had not told them everything."Well, of course I was doing my research", he began."Yes?" said Céline, "And?""And how could I not?""How could you not, what? Am I supposed to read your mind? Just tell us.""How could I not, like, reach out to uncle Johan? We're related. He's a billionaire. It made sense."Then he stopped. As if everything had been said."Well, you can't stop there, brother. What happened next?"Pieter didn't say anything, just sat leaning back in his seat with arms crossed, looking smug."Of course we... talked.""You talked with him?" asked Nele, "And he wanted to talk to you?""Yes, we talked", said Jochen, "It was actually his idea about... never mind.""Never mind?" cried Céline, "We mind! We mind very much!""Well, he agreed to be interviewed.""So you interviewed him," said Kenny."Yes.""For your book.""Yes.""Why didn't you tell us about it.""It was all hush-hush, remember. I couldn't tell anyone about it until it was published, but it never made it to the press and now I have to keep it a secret."
"My, my, what a coincidence", said Pieter, "But what was it?""What was what?""The idea.""Oh, that," said Jochen, "The idea about the one percent of the one percent... it came from him.""It came from him?""Yes," said Jochen, "It came from him.""That's how you got the idea?""Yes," said Jochen, "And he did feel bad about it, how it turned out. So he... had Ariadne find a spot for me. A job. He realized I was done for. He hated being a billionaire, by the way."No one spoke. It was dead silent, until:"How could you have kept this from me", asked Céline, breathing heavily."I'm sorry.. I really am. I had wanted to tell you many times, but I... I. It was easier to just... not say anything and continue on."At this point, we had flown far over the ocean, with no land in sight. Just endless water surrounding us."There's still more you're not telling us, brother", said Pieter, "What are you hiding still? I bet it's pretty bad if you keep beating around the bush.""That's it. That is it. Nothing more to it", said Ariadne, "This is exactly how it went. Johan had agreed to some interviews with Jochen. After hearing through the grapevine the book wouldn't be published and that Jochen was done for as a writer, he regretted having given him the idea for this line of research and asked me to place him within his estate. And that's how we became colleagues. The end," said Ariadne."The end?" cried Céline, "Hardly, miss Ariadne. Hardly."She turned to Jochen."So you have been spending time with her, working on some administration, then, huh? And how do you like it?""Céline, I", stammered Jochen."Fine, don't answer that. At least tell me how much you earn.""Well, you know how much I earn. We're living paycheck to paycheck, aren't we.""Yes, we are." She glared at Ariadne and repeated: "Yes, we are.""It still doesn't make sense -", said Kenny."I second that, brother", said Pieter."I mean that, why would he all of a sudden offer you a job in his firm, that's so meagre that you couldn't keep your house?""It's not meagre, it just wasn't enough to cover the expenses we had for... Jens.""So he offered you a job that's just enough to keep your head above water now, but wouldn't help to cover the medical expenses you needed when your sick child was still alive? He could have just paid those expenses out of pocket and not feel it the next day, whilst you guys lost your very home to try to cover it?""Now THAT sounds exactly like our uncle Johan", said Nele.Soon, the lights turned down and one by one our seats were turned into little beds. Tired from the whole ordeal in New York, it didn't take long after the lights were turned down for most of us to fall asleep. After a couple of hours, though, I started to hear a kind of whimpering coming from Nele's seat in the corner. I wasn't the only one who heard: Céline came over and started whispering to her.
"It's all going to be alright. It'll be all over soon and it will all work out. I promise. We're almost there."
"I don't think it will. I... what about Brenda?"
"She's going to be fine."
"What will happen to her?"
"We talked about this. She's going to be taken care of, right? We can make sure of that now. And so will you."
"I... I don't know. I'm scared." said Nele.
At that point Céline just hugged her and repeated: "It's all going to work out."
Then, she sat across from Nele in the empty seat and, still holding her hand, tried to fall asleep again. But a few hours later, again, there was a sound that woke me up. But it was different. It was the sound of thumping.
Of course, on a plane, I'm used to tuning out certain sounds of the machinery to be able to sleep, but this thumping seemed to come from inside. I tried to ignore it, but as a light sleeper, it did keep me awake. Laying there a while listening to the thumping, the main thing about it was that it was an irregular thumping sound. If it were regular, like a steady rythm, it wouldn't bother as much as it did.
Then, it all became clear: little moans and sighs started to accompany the irregular thumping, which would slow down and accelerate at random intervals even more. I looked around the cabin, but before I could figure out who it could be - the crew? One of the couples feeling excited about their newfound fortunes? - Pieter, who had been sleeping in the seat in front of me across from Kenny and Joyabel, woke up to this sound and immediately started cursing when he too realized what it was we were hearing. He looked behind and to the left of me. Indeed, the seats of Céline and Jochen were empty. Then he turned to me.
"Can you believe those animals? They're at it, again?! I mean, are they bunnies or what? They just can't help themselves, now can they? Disgusting!"
Kenny and Joyabel, who were sitting across from them woke up as they heard Pieter whispering to me.
"No sense of discretion," he continued, "We have to breathe in the recycled air of their lovemaking session? Can you imagine? It makes me sick to the stomach!"
I nodded, trying to suppress my laughter, because the thumping continued unbothered.
"That's it. I'm going over there."
"No! Wait!", said Joyabel.
Kenny didn't stop Pieter, he just rolled over to his side.
As Pieter stood up and went to the back to open the office door, I noticed that in the farthest part of the plane, Céline still lay sleeping peacefully in the seat across from Nele. I stood up and looked to Pieter. But it was too late. He opened the door, shouting: "Could you guys stop it! We're trying to sleep! Do you mind -" But then, whatever he saw, shut him up.
Now that he had woken everyone up, everyone stared at the open door where he stood visibly perplexed. They could only hear him say with a low voice: "Oh, maar Jochen..."
Céline, looking very confused at the very other end of the jet, stood up slowly, just as slow as it was becoming clear to her what she was seeing through that little door.
"Jochen?"
Jochen finally came into view, barely able to cover himself and Ariadne was seen running to the back, frantically grabbing her clothes and jumping into the bathroom.
"JOCHEN?!" screamed Céline who now sprinted towards the door, but Jean-Baptiste grabbed her and held her down as she repeated Jochen's name, who for a second more appeared in front of the open door and then slammed it shut.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
"Brenda", said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "This is doctor De Roose. She will help us with some questions we need to answer about the murder of your uncle, Johan.
There was no reaction.
"Brenda, I know you can hear me. I'm going to let doctor De Roose introduce herself and then we'll be asking you some questions. You don't need to be afraid. We just need to know the truth. We promise we won't hurt anyone you know. These are just some questions."
Doctor De Roose sat down on a stool, positioned just inside Brenda's line of sight. She ignored Rechercheur Van Der Smet entirely and proceeded to take out some papers out of her briefcase, before really facing Brenda and painting on a lovely smile.
"Brenda, dear", she said, "I have some questions for you, but before we get into any of that I want you to know that you are safe here."
She stared into Brenda's eyes for a moment in silence. Brenda's eyes moved to meet hers.
"Perfect", said doctor De Roose, "Now, Brenda. I know the past days have been extremely hard for you. You are used to having a daily routine, right?"
Again she looked into Brenda's eyes, Brenda looked back into hers.
"And that routine has been broken somewhat. We want you to get back to your routine as soon as possible. Now, Brenda, to make things easier on us, we need to... well... let's say we need to for the sake of getting this all behind us as soon as we can... play a little game. It's called: blink once for no, blink twice for yes."
She started rummaging through her papers, trying to find an image she could show Brenda, but before she could find the paper, Brenda had blinked twice already, with a little humph.
"Oh, okay, Brenda, I see you've already got the hang of it. Very good."
De Roose looked over at Van Der Smet, who nodded at her. Brenda was absolutely conscious.
"Good. Good. Brenda. Of course, we would have loved to talk to one another like for example mister Van Der Smet and I would, but I am going to have to ask you only yes or no questions. Don't be shocked by these questions. The thing is that I am going to have to word them with some, let's say, things we think may or may not be true and it's up to you to tell us yes or no. Just because our questions are phrased a certain way, doesn't mean we already think this. You just tell us no, and it's no, right? You understand? You understand why we need to do it this way?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Fantastic. Now Brenda. You had been diagnosed as being in a waking coma, of being completely catatonic, due to a case of.. encephalitis that was misdiagnosed. I'm so sorry to hear that Brenda, I really am. Brenda. I do believe you have been catatonic for a while, but. Clearly, you... you've to a certain extent woken up. Have you been able to see and hear the world around you for a while now?"
Brenda blinks twice.
"Wonderful, you're good at this, Brenda. Very good. Brenda. I have another question for you. Now, Brenda. How long would you say you have been conscious in this way. Longer than a year?"
Brenda blinks twice.
"Longer than two years?"
Brenda blinks twice.
"Longer than five years?"
Brenda blinks once.
"No longer than five years, then. Good, Brenda. You're really doing so good, Brenda, you really are. Now. Listen Brenda. Would you say you are conscious for five years, then?"
Brenda blinks twice.
"Thank you Brenda. Thank you, so much. Okay."
Doctor De Roose looks away from Brenda and rummages through her papers again, hands over a couple to Rechercheur Van Der Smet without looking at him, then studies one of the documents and paints on her smile again.
"Brenda, hi. I have another question for you."
Brenda blinks twice again, with another little humph.
"Now, now, Brenda, I haven't asked you a question yet."
She looks over at Rechercheur Van Der Smet who is typing frantically.
"I love your enthusiasm, Brenda, I do. So good to see, especially considering your condition. I feel like we're going to get far with each other, don't you think?"
Brenda didn't blink.
"Good. Good. Now, Brenda. Did you let your sister know. Five years ago. Did you let her know. That you, woke up, I mean that you can hear and see and you know about what's happening around you?"
Brenda blinked once.
"You didn't?"
Brenda blinked once.
"Good, Brenda. I appreciate the honesty. So you didn't tell her at first. But, as we know from the transcripts at Mr. De Walters house, Nele did know. Or at least, she realized after a while. Would you say it was within the year?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Good. Within the year then. Okay. Then, Brenda. Something else. Can you move your hands for me?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Yes, thank you, Brenda, so much for confirming. But can you please also... move them. For us to see?"
Brenda proceeded to move her hands. She was able to move her hands from the wrist, turn them around, open them up and then turn them into a fist."
De Roose looked at Van Der Smet, then turned back to Brenda with a smile.
"You're doing so good, Brenda, you really are. Now, Brenda, another question for you. Have you tried to kill yourself?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Brenda. So sorry to hear. Now, Brenda, did you try to do that with the kitchen knife at home, where Nele was your caretaker. For example when she had used a kitchen knife to put butter and jam on bread for you?"
Brenda blinked twice.
De Roose and Van Der Smet looked at one another, again, but this time, there was a little hint of disbelief in their eyes.
"Brenda, very good. Thank you. We can see, however, that, well, don't take this the wrong way, but your hand movements are pretty limited. It's hard to believe that - "
Brenda blinked twice and then blinked twice again.
"Right, Brenda. Of course. I don't mean to upset you. I just wanted to ask you about why. Did you not want to live like this?"
Brenda blinked once.
"You woke up to being paralysed, and seeing your sister, aged, doing nothing but taking care of you, each day. And you weren't able to say anything?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"I can imagine, Brenda. I really do. You didn't want to live like that anymore."
Brenda blinked three times.
De Roose didn't look up at Rechercheur Van Der Smet, but leaned in closer.
"I noticed you blinked three times just now, Brenda. Do you mean to say, 'yes and no'?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"It wasn't completely about not wanting to live like that anymore, are you trying to say that?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Then, Brenda, was it more about... your sister. Nele? You didn't want her to live like that anymore?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"I see. Brenda. I am so sorry. I can't imagine what that would be like. Did you... hear her cry?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Right, of course you would have. And did you hear her complain?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"I am so, so sorry for you, Brenda. I really am. And I understand. You absolutely didn't want to be a burden to her. Did she cry and complain about you?"
Brenda blinked three times.
"Yes and no, then, huh," said De Roose, "I can imagine she didn't realize you could hear her or see her and she would let everything out, lamenting her situation, without considering your feelings."
Brenda blinked twice.
"Of course, she didn't know you could hear."
Brenda blinked twice.
"Now, Brenda. When did you begin to try to end your life?"
Brenda stared at her.
"Oh, right. My mistake, Brenda. Let me rephrase that. Did you try to end your life within the first year?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"And from that moment on, Nele must have realized, right, that you could hear and see everything around you?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Why didn't she take you to the doctor and tell them about it?"
Brenda stared at her.
"My fault again," said De Roose, "I mean to say, Brenda, let me phrase it this way. Did Nele try to seek medical help? Professional help?"
Brenda blinked once.
"Why wouldn't she do that", asked Rechercheur Van Der Smet, forgetting himself. Doctor De Roose ignored him.
"I imagine, finding out your sister has woken up from a coma to a certain extent by trying to kill herself, she didn't want to alert the doctors to... help you do that?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Would you have wanted euthanasia?" asked Doctor De Roose.
Brenda blinked twice.
"Why wouldn't Nele help her with that", asked Rechercheur Van Der Smet.
"Je moet de vragen aan mij overlaten, Van Der Smet, you aren't helping."
"Pardon", said he.
"I guess, after twenty years plus of taking care of you, even though she absolutely hated the situation, Nele wouldn't know what to do, after losing you."
Brenda blinked twice.
"I get that. No, I really do. This isn't an easy conversation, Brenda, I'm so sorry to put you through this. Can we have a glass of water please? We don't need to go into that any further. I think we know enough."
A couple of tears streamed down Brenda's face.
"Brenda," said Doctor De Roose as she wiped her cheeks with a paper towel, "Can we ask you some other questions now?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"I know this is hard, but we really need to know."
She rummaged through her briefcase again and ogled a document from another folder.
"Brenda. Do you know who killed Johan Paepe?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Brenda. You do?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Brenda. Please answer carefully now. Is the person who killed Johan Paepe someone you know."
Brenda blinked twice.
"Okay. It's someone you know. Brenda, here's the next question. Is the person who killed Johan Paepe someone in your family?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Brenda. I'm sorry to have to ask you like this, but, since we've no other option. I have to ask. Is it you?"
Brenda blinked once.
"You understand I had to ask that question, don't you, Brenda? I'm so sorry. It's because your fingerprints are on the murder weapon. The gun Johan Paepe allegedly used to kill himself, but was found outside of a plausible position, right on the coffee table, instead of his lap or on the ground."
Brenda blinked twice.
"Who killed Johan Paepe?" asked Van Der Smet.
"Brenda, we need to know. Is it one of the people on this photo sheet?"
Doctor De Roose held up a photo sheet of everyone present at the reading of the will.
Brenda blinked three times.
Rechercheur Van Der Smet and Doctor De Roose stared at one another for a moment. Then, Doctor De Roose took a deep breath.
"Brenda, you do realize one cannot be a murderer and not a murderer at the same time."
Brenda blinked once.
"I don't believe I follow, Brenda", said Doctor De Roose, "I don't follow at all. One person in your family did and didn't kill Johan Paepe, is that what you're trying to say?"
Brenda blinked once.
"Did Johan Paepe kill himself", asked Rechercheur Van Der Smet, and before Doctor De Roose could turn to him to shut him up, Brenda had blinked three times.
Both Van Der Smet and De Roose were stunned for a moment and then Doctor de Roose asked:
"Brenda. Did he shoot himself?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Brenda," said Rechercheur Van Der Smet, "Was he alone?"
Brenda blinked once.
"Were you there?"
Brenda blinked once.
"But how do you know, then?"
"Yes or no questions, Rechercheur", said Doctor De Roose.
"Who was there?"
"Yes or no questions, again, Rechercheur."
"Were any of the people on the picture sheet there when Johan shot himself?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"How many", asked doctor De Roose, "Blink the number of people that were there."
Carefully Brenda blinked once.
"One person?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Is it the person who put your fingerprints on the gun?"
Brenda blinked once.
"So someone put your fingerprints on the gun, and another person took the gun to Johan, is this correct?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Did Nele put your fingerprints on the gun?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Did she go to Johan, and make him kill himself with it?"
Brenda blinked once.
"Did someone ask Nele to put your fingerprints on the gun?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Did they promise Nele that she would be taken care of?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Did Nele do it because you had wanted to kill yourself anyway?"
Tears fell down Brenda's face. Then she blinked twice.
Rechercheur Van Der Smet and Doctor De Roose fell silent for a moment. She turned to him and he bent down to meet her mouth with his ear. She whispered: "Moest je mij nu weeral per se betrekken in zo dingen?"
Then, she turned to Brenda again.
"Your sister, not prepared to lose you to euthanasia, leaving her with nothing after a life spent entirely on taking care of you at the expense of her own, was prepared to press your fingers onto a gun with which billionaire Johan Paepe would then proceed to shoot himself through the head with, in exchange for... what? Money?"
Brenda blinked twice.
Again, De Roose turned to whisper something in Van Der Smet's ear: "This is insane."
Van Der Smet answered: "We've seen a lot crazier shit for much less."
Doctor de Roose turned again to Brenda.
"Nele, at the restaurant, you tried to kill yourself in the bathroom, when you were left alone. You had allegedly grabbed the knife Nele had used to cut a banana for you off of the table in Mr. De Walter's office before being left alone in the bathroom, where you proceeded to cut your wrists. The question of course is, why, why would you do that? But let me phrase it this way: did you not want to take the blame?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Did you not want them to get away with it?"
Brenda blinked twice.
"Brenda, I am going to move my finger from picture to picture on this sheet. I need you to blink twice once I get to the picture of the person who had asked Nele to press your fingerprints on the gun and was in the room with Johan Paepe when he shot himself. Okay. Here we go. Stop me by blinking twice when my finger points at the person."
Brenda blinked twice.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
"Let me in there!" Céline shrieked.Jean-Baptiste was holding her down, trying to prevent her from attacking Jochen. Behind the door we could clearly hear the two brothers arguing, whilst over here, Céline kept screaming his name endlessly. Jean-Baptiste gestured towards Kenny to try and help him calm Céline down."You too, Kenny? How dare you! Why won't you let me in there! You all saw! You all saw what just happened! Why keep me here? What for? Did you guys know? Did you guys know about this?""Of course not", said Layla, "We're just as shocked as you are!"As if she didn't hear her, she continued cursing her husband and said: "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to murder the man. I'm already a suspected killer, so I might just as well do it! What have I to lose?"Meanwhile, in the back, Nele had started humming a most unsettling tune. It sounded like a kind of nursery rhyme or other. And with an extremely high pitched voice she started describing things she noticed about her. The buttons on the chair. The little cabinet doors. The seatbelt buckles. She started describing everything, humming and singing it in an eerie voice, unnaturally high-pitched. It wasn't loud, but it was as if suddenly there was a child on board in the body of a 40-year old. A chill ran down my spine.Meanwhile, Jean-Baptiste was still trying to calm Céline down."Allez, Céline, calme-toi. Have a glass of water. But we need you to be calm. We're going to discuss this with him. We're going to get him. We're going to talk to him. Not just for you. Everyone needs to know what's going on. But, Céline, we're not going to get anywhere if you're going to assault the guy. We all need to know what's going on."I don't know if it was his soothing accent or his smooth voice, but somehow what Jean-Baptiste said worked. Céline stopped yelling. She calmly stood up, and silently went over to her seat. Layla brought her a bottle of water and tried to hand it to her, despite Céline’s death stare aimed at the door. Suddenly, it was totally quiet in this part of the cabin again, apart from Nele's mouse-like humming.Kenny then went over to the door. He knocked three times and then said: "You guys presentable? We need to talk."It was the sound of Pieter's voice came out of the office. "Yes. Yes, we are." The muffled voices of both Ariadne and Jochen protested, but Pieter had opened the door already, regardless.“After you,” Pieter said.And the two walked in, ashamed, eyes to the floor."Well," said Layla, "What have you two to say?""All I have to say," said Jochen, "Is that I'm very sorry. I'm truly very sorry.""You could at least look at Céline when you say it," said Pieter."I'm sorry," said Jochen, lifting his head and looking at Céline, however not meeting her eyes, just looking in her general direction."And how about you?" said Pieter to Ariadne.Ariadne's face, however, was defiant. She clearly had no remorse."I'm sorry", she said, "My behavior was totally unprofessional. And on behalf of the board-""Fuck your board!" said Céline, "I'm not concerned with the board, Ariadne. I'm concerned with you!"This shook Ariadne. She startled and eyes blinking she shivered."I... I..." she stammered."You... You... You were just fucking my husband."Ariadne shrunk."Jochen and I..." she tried."Yes, correct," interrupted Céline, "This is about you and Jochen and I. So say it. How long. How long has this been going on?""It's been... years," said Jochen."I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!" screamed Céline, and she lunged forward, hands stretched out before her to strangle him. Kenny and Jean-Baptiste restrained her again. I couldn't help but think that Céline had mentioned before that she knew, she knew, that Jochen was having an affair. And that at one time, she did too. But I was hesitant to speak. Something was off about this. And I couldn't figure out what.Meanwhile, Nele had started to get up from her seat, still humming and singing in her little high-pitched voice, as if nothing was happening on this side of the cabin, as if she couldn't hear anything that was going on. She just kept going on about the buttons. As if she was talking to some kind of kindergarten teacher about how lovely buttons are and what sorts of things they can do. And she was asking this imaginary kindergarten teacher what this button would be for and that one and the other one.One of the flight attendants went towards her and asked her if she would like a drink or perhaps maybe a tablet that would help with fear of flying. But Nele just went on talking about the buttons, wondering about them out loud, humming her questions in an unsettling little melody. The flight attendant stared at her."Can you show me more buttons?" Asked Nele. However, the flight attendant didn't really know how to respond and proceeded to show her the flight brochure."Jochen," said Céline finally, "It's one thing to have an affair. But to get your whole family in one little space no bigger than a bus, and then start fucking another woman inside it? You must be out of your mind!"Ariadne did not appreciate being referred to as being fucked or as being the other woman. She left for the office room once more and grabbed her laptop."Oh, I'm not done with you!" said Céline, "You! You're worst kind of woman! The kind of woman who thinks other people's marriages are a game. That you can buy any husband, string him along with gifts and money and favors and access, the works, as if marriage vows are worthless just because they are words? I have given everything I have to the man, my time, my life, everything I built and earned, I have given away, because of this vow we made to one another. It was all I had. Would you do it, Ariadne? Would you give up all you built for him? Would you be prepared not just to share it all, but to LOSE it all as well? Are you prepared to lose it all for this man? Because I was prepared to, I vowed to, and I DID. I DID! Is that not a number you can use in an excel sheet, you can use to make a graph, to leverage some kind of deal? Oh, but I'll give you a statistic. Life expectancy, my dear. You'll be in the category of the bottom 20 percentile of successful corporate women who die before 40.""Okay, that's enough," said Layla, "We understand you Céline, but don't go too far."Nele's mouse-like humming pierced the short pause before Pieter asked the question that was on everyone's lips."Jochen. There's no use denying anymore. No, not that. Everyone knows you're a cheating asshole sex-addict. It's the other thing. Clearly, you've been the secret billionaire all along."Everyone was too stunned to speak."Before we even get to the part where we absolutely have every right to scold you for having been such a tremendous duplicitous liar and traitor to us all, just standing by alongside all of our struggles, pretending to console us and help us when you had the means to effectively help us, your own flesh and blood, your family, just tell us. How? How and why? Why would you even do that?”"I..." stammered Jochen, "I... I went to Johan."He was looking for the right words, but Pieter edged him on: "Just say it. No need to embellish it. Just tell us. Plain and simple.""I went to him for my book! I wanted to interview him! And I told him I was writing a book and suddenly, he changed. He changed. He really wanted to help me. He wasn't like the distant, disgruntled man we all knew. He was... eager to help. He wanted to help me.""How? By making you a billionaire?" said Kenny, bitterly, "And you said yes, leaving us all in the dust?""No, it's not like that at all... He... told me about what life was like being a billionaire, but then he had decided to... show me. He wanted to show me. Share it with me.""Why? Why would Uncle Johan do that?" asked Pieter."Because Jochen is Johan's son!" Cried Céline.Everyone turned to Céline, stunned, not in the least Jochen himself."You knew?!"Céline sighed, nodding slowly."Yes. Your mother told me on her deathbed. She asked me to keep it a secret from you. That it would destroy you. She wanted to die relieved from her secret and her wrongdoing, she wanted to have told someone before going to the other side. And I did, I kept it a secret. From you...""What do you mean, from me?" asked Jochen, "Who else knows?""It doesn't matter now," said Céline, "I want to know why you did it. Why couldn't you just... be his heir and just be honest about it? Even to me?""He wanted it all for himself" said Kenny, "The selfish bastard.""It's not that," said Jochen."And why should we believe you?!" cried Pieter."You don't have to believe me, but hear me out, at least. Johan... yes... he revealed to me that he was my father. That he had loved our mother. That his brother's 'first child' was actually his. This is why he could never see me, mother, or father, or any of us. He was torn, and also... dad would have killed him if he had found out.""Yes," said Pieter, "Yes, he would.""He was so proud that I did so well for myself and when he found out I was going to write this book, he became emotional that even in his absence, I clearly was his son, because he had passed on something, like a writer's gene. It made him cry, cry like a baby. We held each other.""And then..." Céline said."He proposed that I should go undercover. As a billionaire. Move around the circles of this radical one percent of the one percent. Live the life. Write from experience! It was going to be the next big book. We thought it would be the best thing to be written in a long while.""It doesn't make sense," said Kenny. "He was a billionaire himself, why would he want to do that.""Because he was like that all along... he was a rebel when he was poor, he remained one when he became wealthy. Just in a different way. It's him. It's his personality.""You ARE your father's son," said Céline. "And I don't mean it as a compliment.""So, then," said Layla. "I understand your story, Jochen, I do. But, cousin, why did you kill your own father? Why kill Johan?""I didn't!"Everyone shook their head, and Pieter couldn't help but laugh."You bastard. You're the secret billionaire! None of us have a motive that is as big as yours. A billion times bigger! He had written up his new will and testament because he wanted to share the wealth amongst the six of us, and then... you killed him!""I didn't!" shouted Jochen, "How dare you! I'm not a killer! I wouldn't kill Johan! I... He's my father, for God's sake!""How did you get Brenda's fingerprints on the gun, Jochen," said Jean-Baptiste, "That's the crazy part. Brenda! Of all people!""I didn't!" repeated Jochen, "Yes, Johan gave me access to his enormous resources he didn't use anyway, but he did it for us to write our book on this crazy one percent of the one percent that are in an extremist cult. It was a father-son thing. Something to make up for lost time. He gave me access to this wealth ten years ago, yes. As his sole heir, but I never intended to keep it all for myself. The book was supposed to get published, remember! I would have shared everything by then. It was even in the book itself, goddamnit! I was going to share everything!""Bullshit" said Céline.She had turned bright red, shaking once more with rage."Bullshit. How about Jens? Let's talk about Jens! Let's talk about our little boy. Let's talk about Jens!""Céline. Céline, please!""Your own son! You talk of Johan being your father, all sentimental. Well, how about your own son?! You had access to live your secret billionaire life for over ten years?! But then when Jens had become ill, where was the money?""I... Céline, please. I would have, if I could! If I could!""IF YOU COULD?!" Céline screamed at the top of her lungs, "IF YOU COULD?! YOU KEPT YOUR MILLIONS AND BILLIONS A SECRET WHILST OUR SON DIED AND YOU MADE US SELL OUR HOUSE TO PAY THOSE BILLS WHEN YOU COULD JUST HAVE PAID THEM?""I DID!" shouted Jochen. "I did use the money! I just didn't tell you! The experimental treatments in the private hospitals? The ones in France? In Switzerland? The miracle treatments? They were way more expensive than you know! I just couldn't tell you, Céline. I couldn't.""WHY?!" shouted Céline, "WHY, JOCHEN! YOU'RE MY HUSBAND! WHY COULDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"Layla sat herself down next to Céline and put her arms around her, letting Céline cry on her shoulder."I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" she shouted, muffled into Layla's thick long black hair."The book never got published. The owners of all the major media outlets. They all go back to billionaires, who know billionaires who know billionaires. They all have favors! That's how it works. One favor for another. I was shunned as a writer. Anywhere. Johan was shocked too. But he realized, he had put me in danger. I told him, I didn't care. I knew the consequence of journalism, that it can come at a great cost, when the truth is dangerous. I was prepared to take some hits, to compromise my own safety. Heck, I was so bold, just like him, ruthless, even. I infiltrated, yes. Afterwards they hunted me. Down! Tried to destroy me. But they soon realized. Hurting me personally, it would only work to corroborate my investigation! Me and Johan had arranged for my work to be published posthumously if anything were to happen to me. We agreed, Johan and I, that I had better get back to my normal life. Disappear from the billionaire living sphere, just... go back to normal. As if nothing had ever happened. He gave me a job. Well, he had Ariadne give me one, an inconspicuous one, not easy to find. But I underestimated them. To get to me, they would get to the one thing that I was not willing to get hurt for my journalism. My own son."Jochen started crying at this point, however, no one came to him. No one trusted him anymore. Not until his story made sense. Nele, meanwhile, just kept singing quietly, just like a child that doesn't know what grown-ups are talking about and is lost in her own little world, wondering about what is directly in front of her."How," asked Céline, coldly."Céline. The doctors. They wouldn't treat him. They just... they wouldn't treat him. They ran tests. But... they didn't treat him. They looked at his numbers, his results. They told us one thing. The other doctor told us another. They... they wouldn't treat him, Céline!""But they took him in! The public hospitals, the private hospitals, the clinics, they all took him in. They went through everything with us, all the new, all the new stuff, the new treatments, the new experimental things, machines, everything!""Yes, Céline, they had it all. But. They didn't use it. They gave him the generic stuff, the stuff that didn't work!""That's impossible, Jochen!" shouted Céline, "It's impossible!""I swear! Céline! The doctors wouldn't help! The hospitals we had to go to to save Jens' life were all privately owned, weren’t they! They all went back to... all of the private hospitals are owned, all the doctors, the managers, the board, they all are owned, Céline. They are! It all goes back to the billionaire favor system, one billionaire that knows the next that knows the next and most of the time they don't even know why, they just know that they can make doctors choose between their careers and reputation or just... not helping this one person, without even telling them the reason."Not one person spoke, except of course Nele, who had requested to see more 'buttons' in the pilot's cockpit. The flight attendant said she would go ask the pilot."They didn't treat him, Céline. They pretended to. They let him die, slowly. They let me watch. They let us watch. As it happened. They knew he would die, the second we brought him anywhere. That is why they were so reluctant. They would only give us the worst scenario, wherever we went, give us a tiny percentage of success, emphasizing the experimental nature of the treatments all because they were determined, Céline, to not do anything substantial.""But he was a child! Who could do that to a child?!" said Layla.
"It's not that they were hurting Jens. It's that they stood aside. They let his sickness happen. They would look on. Reluctantly. Layla. Even doctors' hands can be tied. They have the vow to "do no harm", but they can still deny to treat. And look on as it happens. Don't forget they are used to seeing someone die. Even children.""You took a billion dollar deal with uncle Johan ten years ago," said Kenny, "Kept it a secret whilst all of us were struggling immensely, watched on as things got worse for us too, and now you're trying to convince us that, of all people, doctors are the villains? The very people that save lives?""That they want to save", said Jochen. "I'm sorry, but that's a reality. I LOST MY OWN SON! I KNOW WHAT I SAW AND I KNOW WHAT I HAVE BEEN THROUGH SINCE!""You fucking asshole," said Pieter. "Always pontificating, always have on any occasion, endlessly, and here you are, after years of enduring your bullshit, and you turn out to be the biggest bullshitter of all! The truth is you could have helped any of us at any time, don't tell us you couldn't have, but only when YOU YOURSELF came into trouble OF YOUR OWN MAKING, you decided to just help yourself!”"Yes, I was done with it, Pieter! But not just like that! AFTER I LOST JENS!! What have I to live for, without my own son, no career, no prospects? Of course I kept it all a secret. Do you think a single one of you would have believed any of this, if I had told you just like that? It sounds unbelievable!""It surely does," said Céline. "Incredible is the word. You lost everything did you? Except... I have stood by your side, all this time and what does it count for? Everything I lost? I’m just, what, collateral? In your crusade for the truth? Collateral? Your own wife, your own son? Vowed to you in marriage because I could see my entire life with you, EVEN after possibly losing everything? And we did! And I still kept to my vow? And I still love you! But you can't say the same! You have never lived your life for me or my sake. You have provided for me, yes. You have loved me once, yes, but where has that gone? You decided to go undercover, a secret billionaire life, I believe you. But what turned out to be the actual real life, what turned out to be the fake one? Which one is it, Jochen? Did you get it twisted somewhere along the way? Five years of living as a secret billionaire and you suddenly forgot that I was the one to make you a real home to return to? A son? A family? Yet you chose to enjoy only the other life, and leave all the misery and the toil to ours? You are no crusader of the truth, Jochen, not at all! You prefer the fantasy!”Jochen broke down crying at this point. Ariadne did not dare touch him. Céline continued:“I followed you. Yes, I did. I found out. About Ariadne. I did. I have known, Jochen, a long time. I followed you. After losing Jens, what else had I to do with myself? And you kept returning to her more and more, and left me alone more and more. Is it because she makes you feel like you're still the billionaire you never actually were? You prefer the fantasy! You want to live the fantasy!You can't wait to indulge, indulge, indulge, all those nasty desperate texts to her, that you can't wait, bursting at the seams, desperate, yearning for that sexual release, a glutton for pain, you crave this fantasy now. This is what you crave. And you get it from her. You remember how you used to fit in here, in this mahogany, shiny, crystal, twinkling dingling world, you remember it and she makes you feel like the man you never were. Is that why you had started resenting me, because I remind you of the man you are? A betrayal to your own family, the people who know you as you are, who have been there when you were becoming and struggling to be the man who chased his dreams, who promised so much, who could still look through our eyes at life, as it was? As we were living it? How your eyes have become dull around us, glazed over, detached. You've replaced your enthusiasm for our shared lives with words, words, words, nothing but empty words that trump another word and impresses as another thing might impress you, you try to impress us, whilst, all along, Jochen, what happened? You never needed to impress us?! We love you! As you are. But you can't let us love you as you are, if you can't accept yourself as we see you. The person that we had loved all along, but you loathed."Listening to Céline, everyone had started to feel discombobulated. With Nele's incessant humming and singing in the background, the space in the jet was starting to feel increasingly unreal."You knew?" whispered Jochen."I knew."Noticing things were heating up even more in this part of the jet, the flight attendant had judged it better to have Nele, who was clearly having a sort of episode as a reaction to what was happening behind her, to calmly introduce her to the pilot in the cockpit and discuss all the types of buttons there. Seeing as there was no shortage of buttons in the cockpit, this would keep her busy for a while. The pilot even entertained her little nursery rhymes and melodies, ever in that mouse-like high pitched voice, that unsettling sound coming from a woman like her, stern-faced and weathered by life."I'm sorry!" said Jochen again."That's not going to cut it," said Pieter, "You've bet everything you hold dear to crusade against powers that can bet much more than you ever could. And you lost. I imagine you would go straight to the cause of your misery. Johan. I imagine you would secure your compensation for all this. I would imagine that, yes. That you have nothing to live for anymore, Jochen, like you said yourself, so, what did you have to lose? You discovered that he was about to share the estate amongst all of us, and you shot him. All you needed to do was to make sure we never agreed on anything, and you would be able to keep the billions to yourself. Cue Ariadne, to make us all even more confused and keep us divided, so that you could become the billionaire you have wanted to be again.""It's not like that, Pieter," said Jochen, "Not at all. I didn't kill Johan. He's my FATHER!""He didn't," said Ariadne."If you speak another word, it'll be your last", shrieked Céline as she jumped up from her seat, Layla, holding her back somewhat."Céline, I would advise you to tone down", said Ariadne in an authoritative voice that shocked everyone."What did you say?" screamed Céline."I said shut up," said Ariadne, coldly."How dare you speak to Céline like that," said Pieter, "Jochen, aren't you going to say anything? Or do you no longer remember which of your wives you're devoted to?!""Quiet, all of you!" said Ariadne, "It's over.""What can you mean, it's over?" said Kenny.All the while after Ariadne had come back in, she had been holding her laptop."It's over. Rechercheur Van Der Smet had just sent me this video.""What video?""It's a recording of the interrogation of Brenda."A panic visibly overtook Céline. She got up from her seat, but instead of lunging towards Ariadne, unexpectedly, she looked back over at Nele, who was standing in the cockpit. They locked eyes with one another and Nele nodded back to Céline. She grabbed a gun from her purse and pointed it at the pilot's head."Nele!" cried Pieter, "For goodness' sake, what are you doing?""Does anyone here know how to fly a plane,", said Nele with a deep voice, clear as a bell."Of course not," said Layla."Then all of you had better do as I say," said Nele, "Especially you, Mr. Pilot. Now listen to me carefully. You will turn this jet around and take us back to New York. This instance.""Nele, what has gotten into you?""Isn't it clear," said Kenny, "She's the one. She's the one who killed Johan.”Pieter slowly came down the aisle, towards the cockpit, where Nele held the gun to the pilot's head."Nele, you don't need to do this. Come one. Give us the gun. We can talk this through.""There has been too much talking. Too much talking! Too much!" said Nele. "What have I got to do to get some peace of mind!""Murdering someone will not get you that piece of mind," said Pieter. "Come, Nele. We both know you're anything but a murderer.""Oh, so you don't think I would pull this here trigger?" said Nele, her voice still disturbingly clear and confident. She pointed her gun to the laptop Ariadne was holding and shot it down. Ariadne screeched as the laptop was blown out of her hands and she fell to the floor, covered in laptop bits and pieces."Believe me now?" said Nele."I believe you", said Pieter, "I believe you Nele. Now don't do anything rash.""Stay where you are and shut up", said Nele and then turned her gun towards the pilot again. "Now you turn this jet around and get us back to New York."It's impossible," said the pilot. We don't have enough fuel to make it back.""Turn it around now," commanded Nele, pushing the gun into the pilot's head."OK," said the pilot."We're all going to die!" said Joyabel, "Didn't you hear him, Nele? There isn’t enough fuel! We're going to crash in the middle of the ocean.""I don't care," said Nele, "I'm not going back there anymore!”"We're not going to make it back!""I said, I don't care!""Why do this, Nele?" said Layla."Shut up!" screamed Nele, and then to the pilot: "I don't see the plane making a U-turn!""I'm going to have to take it manual to do that," said the pilot."Then take it to manual," said Nele.The pilot proceeded to push the many buttons he had just told Nele about, as if talking to a toddler, now being held at gunpoint by the same person, and the jet turned to its side, with everyone on it holding on to their seats.Ariadne had started crying, whilst Jochen was holding her. Layla and Céline had fallen from their side of the jet to the other into Jean-Baptiste. Everything that wasn’t stuck or put inside a cabinet, was flying around. Meanwhile, Pieter crawled towards Nele, who had taken a tumble too. He reached for the gun and they both struggled. Nele, screaming, yanked and yanked at the gun to release it from Pieter's grip, until finally the barrel was pointing to Pieter's face and she pulled the trigger.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
The plane had levelled again, but Nele had not let go of the gun. She was now pointing it at everyone else in the cabin, frantically. Everybody was looking at her horrified. She was covered with Pieter's blood, his upper body and face resting on her lap and bosom, bleeding out all over her. Her face, covered in red splatters."Don't any of you make a move", said she, voice trembling. Behind her, the pilot was shaking."Nele, why would you do that?" said Céline."Shut up, Céline," said Nele, "I should have never listened to you. And see where I've ended up! What you made me end up doing?""Made you?!""Yes!"Everyone was staring at Nele, except Ariadne who was still holding her hands behind her head, looking downwards, crying."It was you, Céline," said Nele, "Your plan. But it didn't work.""Nele," said Céline, "It would have worked. It would have. If you didn't panic, it would have turned out perfect!""No, it wouldn't!""Calm down, Nele.""You're the one to talk!"Joyabel and Layla had started to cry as they saw more and more blood coming from under Pieter's motionless body."I didn't want to put my sister's fingers on the gun, but you made me," said Nele."You did what?" said Jochen."She made me put my sister's fingerprints on the gun," said Nele, "She said that if we let Brenda take the fall for us, it was better than any one of us, because she wasn't conscious enough to mind. She would finally be taken care of. She would be taken into care, what I had wanted for her all my life! And all of us. We would be taken care of too. We would receive all the money and help we had always wanted! All we needed was a foolproof way and you promised me, you promised this was the way. Put her fingerprints on the gun. Brenda would be taken into care. We would inherit everything! It would all work out for everyone!""You did that?" asked Jochen, turning to Céline.But Céline didn't answer."But, then, Brenda, she did it again, didn't she! She tried to take her life again!” her voice was getting more animated, more frantic, “I had told you before. I had told you before that she does that. And when she did that at the restaurant, I realized that she... she knows... She knows we were going to let her take the fall for it."Things started to make sense for Jochen, as he had not taken his eyes off of Céline the whole time Nele was talking. He said:"You... killed my father?""No," said Céline, "I didn't kill your father."“Why put her fingerprints on the gun? It's insane!" said Kenny."Didn’t you hear Nele?" said Céline, "In case they dismissed the death of Johan as a suicide, the fingerprints would only lead to a dead end. An unsolvable case. They could hardly bring a catatonic patient to jail, would they and if they did, they would be forced to take care of her for the rest of her life, right?""What do you mean dismissed as a suicide?" said Kenny, "You killed him, didn't you? You found out about Jochen being the secret billionaire, and you killed Johan.""I did no such thing", said Céline, "I sat down with him. Yes. I took the gun there with me, yes, when we had our appointment to sit down there, yes. I had bribed the concierge, yes. I had, I had told him I would wire him a million euros afterwards, yes. I did. Yes, I did. I told him to livestream. Yes. I told him everything. It's amazing what you can do when you promise people millions for a favor. Amazing! They knew I was related to Johan, they just didn't know I didn't have the money yet, but that was a chance they all were willing to take. Even the personnel at the airport. A quick phone call. Ask for favors, make your special request, promise a surreal amount of money, they'll give you a purse with a gun as you enter the jet, yes, they will. Absolutely. The concierge would deny ever seeing me enter the house in Hoog-Linden, yes. He did. And he left the gate open for me, yes, he did. The doors unlocked. All of it. Then, he removed himself to his rooms, to livestream. And when asked if he had seen anyone, he could just speak to the truth. No, he didn't. So I entered the house, unseen. And I met him, Johan. Mr. Paepe. He invited me into his study. The whole house was nearly falling apart, but his study? Pristine, it was. He offered me a chair. I sat down. Yes, I did. And I told him. I told him that I knew. I told him that. That I knew. Not just about him giving Jochen all the money in a joint account ten years ago. Make sure you could go live the life he had become too bored to live himself. No, not only that. I told him what your mother had told me on her deathbed. That I knew he was your father. And so I told him about Jens. I told him all about Jens. How it was to birth him. To see him grow up. His first words. How he smelled, his little quirks, even before he could speak, his little expressions, his laugh that made your heart overflow, I told him. I told him everything about our little Jens. His grandson. His grandson, yes, I did. Jens was his little grandson. And he could have held him. And how wonderful it would have been, how wonderful he would have felt to have held his own grandson, in his own arms. I told him all about our little angel, Jens. And then I presented the gun. I told him to make it right. Change the will. Then shoot himself. Yes, I did. And he changed the will. And then, tears in his eyes, tears of remorse come too late, he shot himself. I remember his head fell forwards, the bullet went straight through, and there was still a last breath, which I hadn't expected. Some movement, twitching. All of which I didn't expect and I panicked a bit. I thought he, he might still have been alive like one of those medical wonders you see on the television in the late night shows where people fall on a fork that plants itself in the brain through the nostril and they don't remember and they don't realize for years until they go and get a scan for a head-ache and it turns out there was a fork in there for fifteen years. I thought he might still be alive, and In wasn’t the only one. Joyabel ran into the room after hearing the gunshot, screaming and shaking him, taking the gun out of his hand but there was no going back. He had shot himself, and now she was standing there, holding the gun. Of course I hadn’t told the concierge I was going to shoot Johan, so he came to take a look and he saw me and Joyabel standing there by Johan. I ran out. I told him: if you ever see me again. Run.”“You were there?” asked Kenny.“Yes,” said Joyabel, tears in her eyes, “I was there. I heard the gunshot. I thought he might still be alive and I didn’t know what I was doing, but before I knew it, I was holding that gun. Nele ran off. And I just... left the gun there, on the table. And I ran too.”“It’s all too unreal!” said Jochen.“It was,” continued Céline. “I came straight home. You weren't even home yet. I showered for hours, and only after I heard you come in, did I come out of the shower. I was in shock, but you didn't notice. I had been sick for days after, but you didn't notice. You didn't notice anything. If there was one thing I could count on, it is that you had stopped noticing anything about me. We ate dinner and went to sleep day after day. Until we were called to Mr. De Walters, our dear notary, to read the will. And everything went according to plan, except Van Der Smet's AI had gotten everything nearly right. You and I kept being at the top of the ranking. And I was glad, yes I was! I was glad, Jochen, it had got it right about you being the secret billionaire. That you, you might get to be the one taken to jail for the murder of Johan. Yes. I was glad of it. Jochen at the top of the ranking. I was glad of it, Jochen. I was. It was the cherry on top. Whatever we would all agree to do with the inheritance - keep the estate intact or break it up - I couldn't care less. So long as you would be uncovered as the secret billionaire. I wanted you to be uncovered as the secret billionaire, so Van Der Smet would take you away!""Instead, Brenda has revealed your plot to the police, Céline," said Ariadne, "You're a cruel woman. And you're going away. This is an attempted murder."Jochen stared at Céline. He had no words.Kenny, meanwhile, let go of Joyabel's hand."What are you doing?" said Joyabel."I'm not going to let us die in the middle of the ocean," said Kenny, and noticing that Nele had her eyes on Céline and Jochen only, and was still pointing the gun forwards, Kenny started to move closer."Don't do it!” whispered Joyabel. "She already shot Pieter the same way! Don't! Please!"But Kenny moved closer to Nele and as soon as she noticed Kenny, she sprang up, moved backwards and closed the cockpit door behind her.Kenny lunged towards the cockpit and started banging on the door, as did Jochen, who had come running as soon as he saw."Open the door!" he shouted, "Come on, Nele!""Nele, open the door", said Ariadne."Why?!" Nele shouted, sounding muffled from the other side of the cockpit door.Ariadne understood at that point she needed to change her approach if they were to prevent her from shooting the pilot and taking them all down."We... we understand you were under extreme duress not only during the past days but the past decades, caring for Brenda and along the way, you weren't taken care of, it was impossible because you had to be the caregiver, so no one was caring for you and no one noticed you had... slipped somewhat or if someone did notice, nobody actually cared that it was happening. Listen, this has happened a lot of times and our lawyers specialize in these sort of cases. I can get you taken care of, Nele, I promise."Everyone listened for her reply. Meanwhile, blood was running from under the cockpit door into the aisle over their feet."You can?""Yes! Yes we can!" said Jochen and Ariadne in unison."You would know, now wouldn't you", said Céline as she took her purse and slowly started walking toward them."What purse is that," asked Jochen as he turned around."Ah, so now you take an interest in me? What purse is this? How could you ever tell the difference from any of my other purses that you have never ever bothered to notice?"Jochen just repeated the question."This is a special purse. It contains the answer to this whole conundrum."She reached in and pulled out another gun."You think I would come unprepared? Why, you have given me so much time, so, so much time, Jochen, to prepare. Just think of the many nights you have left me alone to ponder every little possibility. My love. Nele and I took out shooting lessons together. Nobody ever noticed or bothered to ask. That's what happens when everyone loses interest in you. They start to underestimate."She pointed the gun at him."Stop!" said Layla, "Céline, we get it. We know you're hurt. But there's been enough bloodshed! It won't solve a thing! It won't bring back your Jens!""And what would you know about losing a child?" shouted Céline.It was at this point that Jean-Baptiste tried to jump her and grab the gun from her hands but before he even reached her, she had shot him in the shoulder, and as he fell down, the air pressure in the cabin fell. Masks fell down from the ceiling, and the jet door started to creak and wiggle dangerously in its hinges but Céline still held Jochen and Ariadne at gunpoint."I was top of the class! I loved taking shooting lessons. It did a lot to temper my anger, I can tell you that much!" shouted she over the sound of whirling air all around them. Kenny tried to shuffle out of the way."I see you, Kenny. Go ahead. Go to Joyabel, hug her. Don't you see? I'm trying to save us all! As it stands, the whole of the jet will crash into the Atlantic ocean if it stays the course. There isn't enough fuel. But I can talk to Nele. I can take us to an airport. Now, if I do this, I would need a favor, yes, you know all about favors, don't you, Jochen and Ariadne. The kind of world you want so desperately to stay in? Here it is: Ariadne, you will assure me the same treatment as Nele, get me the same lawyers to get out of this unscathed, yes?""Yes", replied Ariadne, face streaked with long lines of mascara painted by her tears, yet her face was full of anger."And you," she turned to Jochen, "You will go the way of your father.""What do you mean?” cried Jochen."You will kill yourself, here and now."Even after all of what we had heard Nele and Céline say, we still couldn’t believe our ears at Céline’s condition for talking to Nele and getting us all to safety."And why would I do that?" said Jochen."If you don't. I will not talk to Nele, and we'll all die. You can choose. Isn't this one of your favorite riddles? What is the most ethical thing to do? Kill the one on the rails to save the many on the other rail? You've bothered us countless times with these kinds of armchair moral questions, only making yourself feel better and everyone else feel like an idiot, when we only wanted to feel happy and enjoy being around you. You were always so horribly egotistical, I see that now, at the expense even of the people who really just wanted to spend time with you. So what do you say? Are you going to swallow those words today? Change your mind about the whole question?""Céline", said Jochen, "I'm not going to kill myself.""Then everyone will die. Look. They're already gagging for oxygen. Do you enjoy this?""Do you?" retorted Jochen."I have never enjoyed seeing people get hurt. But I enjoy justice.""Me, shooting myself, that's justice?""Céline, please, put down the gun and talk to Nele. I can help you. From woman to woman, Céline. Please. I owe you that much. I will leverage the whole estate. I will. I will give all it takes to get you and Nele off scot-free. I can. Just let me talk to Rechercheur Van Der Smet. I can. We have the lawyers. Your last name is Paepe, too, isn't it? We can make it work. Just put down the gun. It's gone far enough,” said Ariadne."No," said Céline, "It's either Jochen kills himself, or we all die. Do you know how many times I have asked and prayed for God to bring back Jens and take me instead? I asked him. I asked. Do you see what opportunity I'm giving you now? You could save us all. Just one life for all of ours.""You're deranged! It's not an ethical or a moral question, this is coercion. What you're doing is only leveraging the situation, so that I may kill myself, which, coward that you are, you won't do yourself.""Here we go again, he's speaking in tongues! Why don't you just tell me what you mean, in words we all understand,” said Céline, bitterly.Jochen’s face turned stern and grave. The fear, the negotiation, had disappeared from it. He just stared her straight in the eyes."If you want to kill me. Do it yourself. I'm not going to do it for you."Céline stood there for a moment. Holding the gun in front of her, wind whirling all about the cabin. She didn't know what to do. They were at an impasse and there seemed to be no way forward.Suddenly the jet started shaking. First very lightly. Then the whole jet proceeded to take a deep dive, and, then surprisingly, started to fly up, higher and higher. And then it started to shake again, throwing off the passenger door as the sun seemed to move from left to right to left to right again, casting our shadows in circles all around us. The plane shook even more as it started to level again and a sound filled our ears as the light from all sides of the plane became blinding, whilst a deep boundless grumbling shook our very cores.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
You have reached that triangle that is known in your world as the one that has been identified and tied to the geographic location known as Bermuda which is in fact not so much a triangle as it is in fact shapeless and more like an elliptical that does retain only a shape due to the endless movement in a spiral that moves into another plane that you have now entered due to being magnetically pulled by the extremely specific coming together of different individuals, that being the souls expressing as individuals in your plane of existence that have as a single organism much like any cell in the human body that exists of many different elements within it still come as one unit, you have entered here to what is known as a higher plane, which is very ironic since you are on a plane, a jet plane however this is the most common mode of transport if you will that individuals have moved through to reach here, which is not anywhere except that we identify here as opposed to there however there is also here, but this will become clear later. In any case over the years many have stumbled here on boats and flying craft of all sorts, however when using the word stumbled that is only from the perspective of the individuals on the craft, from here, where you are now, it is not a stumbling at all, it is an amalgamation of both time, space and a series of events and choices, paired with the intention and will of the individuals involved that in fact procure the coming to this triangle in Bermuda, however this is not the only way to reach this plane, it was however the exact way for your configuration as a group for entering here, which you have done now. You find yourself in a jet, an airplane and you see all around you only white as you look out the windows and indeed it is all light. You can move around the cabin, you can jump up and down, you can try to bump the doors and creak the handles and it all is very sturdy and real as it has been up until now during the lives you have lived but here is what is for this dimension that you have entered the reality of being, which is that, yes the airplane you are in is physical at this time, however, it need not be. What is more, it is in fact nothing of the sort. It is simply your entry point. Yes, I have used the word dimension because I am referring to this state of being that you have not yet acclimated to as we are speaking to you, but we want to make it clear to you in terms that don't make you feel like you are losing your minds. So now that we have used the term mind, we want to remind you that the only purpose of the mind is to witness the heart. Why? Because the mind cannot create beingness. It can only witness it. Is that not what the nervous system is for? To sense and send feedback to the awareness that you hold? The mind, the brain, is also part of this system so to search for a sense of beingness in the mind is only to construct a sense of self that is existing of perceptions only, by definition, because it relies only on sensing. You have a word for this and it is ego, all perceptions about the self through the mind only create a sense of self that constructs an ego, yes and we say this without judgment, just we are stating what it is because beingness is not within the mind, as we have said, beingness is in the heart and is only witnessed by the mind. And the beingness in the heart is not of the individual, it is of the all, the beingness that is all and is in all being, and is in everything that is living, is being and is only being felt, and most of all felt, as you all may well know, when one steps out of the mind, this is why. To claim beingness as being only of self, and of yourself and of just the one, is an illusion, beingness is universal, it is of all, and this is where you have arrived, in the plane where the beingness is one. Your airplane has entered from the space where beingness is being experienced as separate, and this is not a judgment, again, it is simply a statement because we can tell you as soon as you step outside of time and space you can tell that all beingness is one, because outside of time and space all is at once. It is all at the same time, and it is all being in the now. Why have you entered here? You have reached a point in your configuration, or rather journey through the individualized experience where you have needed the sense of separation to come to certain realizations that could only be had through playing in the linear quality of the plane you have been living in. Linear meaning the one moment leading to the next moment, and this is leading to another. In your plane there is the thing known as a disk, a CD, and on this disk or CD is for example either music or there is a game. Now one can take this CD that contains the music and look at it and realize that all of the music is on there at the same time, that is where you are now in your airplane, now for the time being still in your jet, seated, but you understand now that being outside time and space and looking at your dimension is like looking at this CD with music you would like to hear. You understand, very well, that to play the CD, it must be linearly experienced, and so it must be placed in a device that created this linearity, by way of the needle on the vinyl record or the laser light that reads the code on the CD, so that the music can be heard.Now there is also the game disk, much like a CD, however the difference with a game disk is that it is read in linearity, yes, much like the CD so as to hear the music and experience the music, because outside of the CD player on can hold the entirety of the piece of music but one is not experiencing it, you cannot play a game disk without placing it inside the play console, which is the device that reads, just like the needle on the vinyl record, with a laser light the code on the disk in a linear fashion, however it shifts a moves around depending on the choices you make in the game.Going back to the mind's only purpose is to witness the heart, because the heart is the only way where beingness exists, and you know this because if your heart is not in "it", and by "it" we mean anything you may be doing, you feel empty and devoid of presence and instead feel moved by a void necessity, however when your "heart is in it" you feel like you are soaring, flying, extremely present, and often described as “really living”. Now imagine a gamedisk, in a gameconsole. Need there not be a player to experience this game in linearity that the game provides to the player? The mind is the needle, it reads the code, it reads the indentations of the vinyl record, it registers the music, but it is the beingness that experiences it. The mind is the laser that reads the disk and for the player to experience it, they need to enter into the game for the sake of the game for the sake of experiencing the game, that is in fact, even when entered into the game, still one whole dataset that exists all at the same time. It exists as a complete whole, even as one is playing it. You have reached that part of your linearity where you have reached this plane as a consequence of the playing out of your disk so to speak, meaning as explained, the whole of the time and space of your dimension. Now, having reached this higher plane through playing your dimension to the point that you flew into the bermuda triangle together, you have returned to the space where all beingness is at once and together and all, and each other. There is no separation, because to experience separation, you need again to enter time and space of the dimension you had come from or another one, it is of your choosing. Now, you may think and say, well, in a game you have many different ways to play, you may choose this side or that side, or this jump or that armor or this companion, or this hoarding of resources or this simulation of a construction that is preferable at that specific time of playing and this is true and they all exist. Yes, they all exist, in another dimension. Is this then, someone else, you may ask, and the answer is no, in the sense that all beingness is one, is all the same, as the player is outside of time and space the player is not an individuated entity, but the completeness of all being everywhere above all dimensions. This is all you, in each dimension it is the same you, having played different choices because at that dimension of time and space the beingness that had filled your heart at that certain point, had moved you into a direction that was different from the one in your dimension. Is it better, is it worse? None of those things, it is all one, at the same time and if you wish to do so, you can release now to enter into beingness without separation to again witness all that is at the same time, all dimensions, outside time and space of each of these "disks" in terms that you understand. You may observe the covers of each of the disks and marvel at the cover art and the story or atmosphere or intention of each of these disks, or you may even observe a "saved game" where it has progressed in a different way, further, shorter or simply other than what you had chosen, "it" meaning here of course you, your name, your life in linearity having been played with a different level, higher, lower, fluctuating between the two, or very similar, of beingness having fueled your heart throughout the choices in your life that lead to a different type of progression that you have experienced and it may lead to much insight and appreciation and even admiration, however all of this requires that you, of course, release separation at this point and enter into the beingness that is all beingness as a whole that has been the beginning and the end, or which is to say the 'being' that has started up the disk and has taken the disk out again after playing, the beingness that was always around playing for the sake of playing, for the sake of experiencing, for the sake of discovering what beingness in this particular linearity unfolds as, and taking this back into the awareness, the overall awareness, the overal beingness, where you are now.You all sit now in an airplane, however there is nothing to see around you, as we have said. And we see some of you cowering and hiding in corners of the jet as if it were possible to hide away from the beingness that is talking to you, but you are not realizing that it is you yourself talking to yourself but inside linearity, and it is also not a judgment, just a statement, because you are all still in choice. Those who only know themselves as through separation of other, with no semblance of being aware that what makes you alive of feel alive or experience life or appreciate life or fuels living as being or feeling alive is not of any one person or individual, but always a shared experience, a heightened aliveness through selflessness, be it in any way this is reached, you need not choose because you have already made a choice that is a direct consequence, cause and effect, of the current state of awareness that chooses for you which is what some call fate, to be directed by your own level of awareness to situations and further opportunities and platforms for further choices to be made where you can reach the point where a choice then can be made to release separation. To release separation, is simple, it is a recognition of the heart of what has fueled it, call it a fire, call it a vibration, call it a fulness, call it a overflowingness of life, of will of beingness that cannot be expressed in words, where the idea of overflowing is then allowed to overflow the idea of a separated self, into a flow that is devoid of self, yet completely and wholly integrated in the beingness of all, so that the idea of "over"-flowing being set by a boundary that is being so full of flow that it is going "over" it, is now dissolved by so much of the overflowing that all that is left is the flowing. And this is releasing the separation, to be in wholeness. At this point, the needle within your dimension's linearity has brought you to the point that you may choose to stay in wholeness. Say you yes, then come in the overflow that overflows the overflow leaving only the flow of wholeness. And the ones among you that have not a recognition of this flow, and have not yearned for flow, and are still deeply embedded in the idea of separation to try to find a self, a sense of a being inside the mind, will continue on in this plane, continuing on the disk that turns ever more to accommodate this search for a self within the sensing of outside, whilst the being that you are is in the beingness without mental constructions or preconditions, or sense perceptions, within. In other words, beingness does not require a self. However to be able to choose to release separation one must first recognize it within themselves before being able to flow into the universal being and therefor, yes for some of you, the airplane is now dissolving as you dissolve and you meet and see all forms that beingness has ever taken as a form, as a dissemination within linearity, such as, yes your son, Jens, and all possibilities of Jens, the Jens that lived, the Jens that you turned out to hate, the Jens you have always loved, the Jens that abandons you, the Jens that never left your side and cared for you, all potentials of Jens exist here. And also your brother Pieter, Pieter as a happily married man and father, Pieter as a successful artist, Pieter as an enormous failure, Pieter as the one who had died in his youth, Pieter who outlived you, all possibilities of Pieter are here, and there is also Johan in all possibility and all his brothers and sisters, and you can be as one with them, and you will feel the relief of not having to bridge such separation to feel each other’s beingness as it is now shared as one. And you can stay if you wish. And now the jet is again falling away beyond the triangle known as Bermuda and it is acclimating again to your dimension's time and space, where you arrive, inexplicably to the plane of your existence, at the airport where a news sensation is triggered in this portion of your disk due to the choices made: namely that a private jet has landed after flying over the bermuda triangle, leaving none but three people in the plane and this incident will be talked about for many, many years, with many interviews to be had over many years, even taken again after decades to find out the "truth" behind what could have been a hoax or a terrible accident where most of the people that were missing, have simply disappeared into the ocean by being sucked through the faulty airplane door and the rest who have managed to hold on have had due to lack of oxygen all experienced a similar near-death experience.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026
"Brenda, would you like a coffee?""Yes", Brenda typed.I wheeled her further down the forest path on this beautiful sunny day in April. All around us the bluebells have bloomed and covered the entirety of the Hallerbos forest floor in purple. It is the famous “Purple Sea”, but since we came at the break of dawn, it still feels like we're the only ones to know about this otherworldly place. The birds around us seem to be the only ones to witness our little peaceful walk by chirping about us to one another and whisking away as we get nearer to them."Here you go," said Ariadne, handing some coffee in a cup to Brenda from her thermos filled with a fresh brew."Thank you," Brenda typed.We come here every year and as we walk here, we tend to reminisce, we tend to think about what happened, but we mostly let the silence do the talking. It’s just the three of us, alone, walking together on this soft forest path. Sometimes a tear may come up and we do hand each other a handkerchief when it does, but no words are needed.Brenda now has her typing machine to talk to us, something Ariadne had made sure was developed as fast as humanly possible by a medical start-up under the Paepe estate of which Brenda was now of course the sole head.Some little stones and bark crunched under the thin tires of the wheelchair as we moved further, and a single squirrel suddenly stood in our way and seemed to stare at us, with a nut in hand."Look at that squirrel," Brenda said."I think it might have just woken up from hibernating.""Do squirrels hibernate?" I asked."They do," said Brenda.THE END
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.© Clark Gillian Van Herrewege, 2025 - 2026