Chapter 6 - THE INFORMANT IN THE SHADOWS
“THE PERSON HELPING US MAY BE THE SAME PERSON WHO ORDERED MY UNCLE SHOT!”
Isabelle stood in Detective Carter's office, staring at the anonymous messages displayed across a computer screen.
The photograph of Étienne in the hospital.
The warning about Gabriel.
The video of Claire.
Each message had pushed them closer to the truth.
But Gabriel's revelation changed everything.
Someone had been guiding them.
Not necessarily to save them.
Possibly to use them.
Carter examined the digital evidence.
“The messages were routed through several encrypted services. Whoever sent them knew how to conceal their identity.”
Alexandre folded his arms.
“Can you trace the original device?”
“We're working on it.”
Isabelle looked toward the window.
“Maybe the sender wants us to find the ledger.”
Carter nodded.
“That seems likely.”
“Why?”
“Because evidence that could expose a financial network might also be valuable to someone trying to take control of it.”
Alexandre's expression hardened.
“So we're being used to recover something powerful.”
“Possibly.”
Isabelle sat down.
For the first time since the gala, she felt the full weight of what had happened.
She had arrived at the mansion hoping to reclaim her father's shares and clear his name.
Now she was trapped inside a conspiracy involving missing relatives, forged identities, medical fraud, and people willing to kill.
The fortune she had inherited suddenly seemed less like a victory and more like a trap.
“What if I walk away?” she asked.
Alexandre turned toward her.
“What?”
“What if I sell the shares, give the money away, and disappear?”
Carter studied her.
“That's your decision. But it wouldn't necessarily make you safe.”
Isabelle looked down.
She thought of the people whose names appeared in her father's trust records.
Families who had lost their savings.
Employees whose pensions had vanished.
Patients whose medical care had been used as leverage.
Her father had tried to help them.
He had failed.
But perhaps she still had a chance.
“No,” she said quietly.
Alexandre watched her.
“Isabelle?”
She lifted her head.
“I won't walk away.”
Carter nodded once.
“Then we do this carefully.”
Over the next two days, investigators reconstructed the history of Blue Harbor Holdings.
The company had purchased abandoned medical facilities, transferred money through private foundations, and acquired distressed properties connected to the Vasseur Group.
Its financial records suggested that Daniel Mercer had been paid millions of dollars for services that were never clearly described.
But one transaction stood out.
A payment of eight hundred thousand dollars had been made to a private boarding school in the Hudson Valley.
The school had closed fifteen years earlier.
Its name was Saint Agnes Academy.
Isabelle stared at the report.
“Where the innocent were taught to lie.”
Alexandre looked up.
“What?”
“Gabriel said my father hid the ledger where the innocent were taught to lie.”
Carter leaned forward.
“You think he meant a school?”
“Maybe.”
Alexandre examined the address.
“Saint Agnes was owned by the Vasseur charitable trust.”
Carter immediately requested the school's historical records.
By evening, they had discovered that Saint Agnes had operated a secret program for children whose parents were involved in financial investigations.
Officially, the children received education and counseling.
Unofficially, some had been kept there under false identities.
Isabelle felt sick.
“They were hiding children?”
Carter's expression was grim.
“That's what the records suggest.”
Alexandre stared at the photographs.
A line of children stood outside a stone building.
Some smiled.
Others looked frightened.
Near the center stood a little girl with dark hair and a blue ribbon.
Isabelle leaned closer.
Her heart stopped.
“That looks like me.”
Alexandre examined the photograph.
The girl resembled Isabelle as a child.
But something was different.
The girl's hair was shorter.
Her face was thinner.
And she wore a small silver bracelet.
Isabelle shook her head.
“I never went to Saint Agnes.”
Carter looked at the photograph.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
She hesitated.
“At least… I don't remember going there.”
Carter requested the original enrollment documents.
The records identified the girl as Isabel Morgan.
Her date of birth matched Isabelle's.
Her listed guardian was Claire Moreau.
Alexandre looked toward Isabelle.
“Maybe your mother took you there after your father died.”
Isabelle shook her head.
“I lived with Gabriel. I remember everything.”
But did she?
She remembered the funeral.
The house fire.
The months of nightmares.
Yet there were gaps.
Periods of childhood that felt strangely empty.
Carter noticed her expression.
“Traumatic experiences can affect memory, but we shouldn't assume what happened without more evidence.”
Isabelle nodded.
She didn't want guesses.
She wanted facts.
The next morning, investigators obtained a search warrant for Saint Agnes Academy.
The property had been abandoned for years.
Its windows were boarded.
Vines covered the stone walls.
The playground was overgrown.
Carter led the search team inside.
Isabelle and Alexandre waited outside the restricted area while officers examined the building.
Hours passed.
Then Carter emerged carrying a small metal box.
“We found this behind a false panel in the headmistress's office.”
Inside were photographs, letters, and a collection of old identification cards.
One card bore Isabelle's childhood photograph.
But the name printed beneath it was not Isabelle Moreau.
It was Isabel Morgan.
Isabelle stared at it.
“Why would they change my name?”
Carter opened another envelope.
Inside was a photograph of two little girls standing side by side.
They looked almost identical.
One wore a blue ribbon.
The other wore a red ribbon.
Alexandre leaned closer.
“Twins?”
Isabelle shook her head.
“I don't have a sister.”
Carter turned over the photograph.
On the back, someone had written:
Isabelle and Elena. Summer, 1998.
Isabelle felt the ground shift beneath her.
“Elena?”
Carter looked at her.
“Does that name mean anything?”
“No.”
She stared at the two little girls.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
Same small dimple in the left cheek.
A childhood she couldn't remember.
A sister she had never known.
Then Alexandre's phone vibrated.
Another anonymous message.
This time it contained a photograph taken only minutes earlier.
It showed a woman standing outside Saint Agnes Academy.
She had long brown hair.
She wore a black coat.
And she looked exactly like Isabelle.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
May you like
“YOU FOUND THE SCHOOL. NOW ASK YOUR MOTHER WHICH DAUGHTER SHE CHOSE TO SAVE.”
End of Chapter 6.
