Early the next morning, I arrived at Gusteau’s. Emile and some other rats were waiting, and they looked hungry.

I couldn’t believe that Emile had told the others about the restaurant. But I couldn’t turn them away.

I told the rats to wait. Then I snuck into the empty kitchen and went to the food safe. It was locked. I looked over at Skinner’s office. The key had to be in there somewhere. I was nervous, but no one was around. So I went in.

I scampered onto Skinner’s desk. I was face to face with a picture of Gusteau. “Remy,” it said, “what are you doing in here?”

I told Gusteau that I didn’t like it, either, but I had to feed Emile and his friends. “If I can’t keep them quiet, the entire colony’s going to be after me,” I said.

Then I spotted the key. It was under a file labeled Gusteau: Last Will & Testament. “Hey, your will,” I said to Gusteau. Curious, I pulled out the file. Inside, along with the will, was an open envelope—with Linguini’s name on it.

“Why would something about Linguini be filed with your will?” I asked Gusteau.

I guess I was being pretty nosy. But I had already come this far, so what did it matter?

Now, I’m a pretty good reader for a rat. But at first, this letter didn’t seem to make any sense. Maybe that was because what it said about Linguini was so surprising.

“He’s your son?” I said to the Gusteau portrait.

“I have a son?” Gusteau said, shocked.

“How could you not know this?” I asked.

“I am a figment of your imagination!” he replied. I kept forgetting that part.

My head spun while I thought about what I had discovered.

Did Linguini know? This would change his life. The will said he was the rightful owner of Gusteau’s!

At that very moment, Skinner walked in. He saw me and froze, stunned.

I snatched the will and the letter and bolted. Skinner snapped out of it and began to chase me. He seemed desperate to get the papers back. That was how I knew he didn’t want Linguini to find out that Gusteau was his dad. He must have been trying to keep it a secret so he could have the restaurant! And a man with a secret can be a dangerous man.

I raced into the street. Skinner followed on his moped. I looked back and saw his cold eyes following my every move. There was no way he was going to let me escape. He caught up to me and tried to snatch the papers.

I came to a sudden stop, and he went zooming by, down some stairs. He landed in a heap at the bottom.

Relief washed over me. Then a bus roared by, and the gust of wind from it blew the papers toward the river. I ran after them again, and Skinner hopped back onto the moped. He reached for the papers, but at the last second, I leapt up and got them!

I landed on a boat. From the riverbank, Skinner jumped aboard. I hopped onto the deck of another boat. Skinner followed! He chased me from one boat to another.

Then my luck seemed to run out. The next boat looked too far away. But I had to try. Using the papers as wings, I flew over the water and landed safely on the other boat.

Skinner knew this was it—his last chance to keep the restaurant. So he jumped, too. Splash! He plunged into the river. I saw him coughing and sputtering as I hopped up onto a bridge and ran off with the papers.