Chapter 8 - THE DAUGHTER OF REVENGE
“I DON'T WANT YOUR MONEY, ISABELLE. I WANT EVERYONE WHO HURT US TO SUFFER!”
The voice came from the doorway.
Isabelle turned.
A woman stood beneath the soft hallway light.
Long brown hair.
Dark eyes.
A face identical to her own.
Elena Moreau.
For several seconds, the sisters stared at each other.
Neither moved.
Then Isabelle whispered:
“Elena?”
The woman smiled sadly.
“Hello, little sister.”
Isabelle felt tears rise.
She had imagined this moment since discovering the photograph.
She had pictured embracing Elena.
Asking a thousand questions.
Trying to recover the years stolen from them.
But Elena remained near the doorway, her hands tucked inside the pockets of her black coat.
Detective Carter stepped forward.
“Ms. Moreau, I need you to keep your hands visible.”
Elena slowly removed them.
“Relax, Detective. I'm not here to hurt anyone.”
Carter didn't lower her guard.
“Then why are you here?”
Elena looked at Isabelle.
“Because my sister deserves the truth.”
Isabelle took a step forward.
“Where have you been?”
Elena laughed bitterly.
“Everywhere they didn't want me to be.”
“Why didn't you find me?”
“I did.”
Isabelle froze.
“What?”
“I watched you graduate. I watched you get your first job. I watched you move into your first apartment.”
Tears filled Isabelle's eyes.
“You were there?”
Elena nodded.
“I wanted to come to you.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because anyone who got close to me became a target.”
Isabelle studied her sister.
The resemblance was extraordinary.
But their lives had shaped them differently.
Isabelle had learned to survive by becoming careful, disciplined, and patient.
Elena had learned to survive by becoming dangerous.
“Did you send Alexandre those messages?” Isabelle asked.
Elena smiled.
“Some of them.”
Alexandre stepped forward.
“Which ones?”
“The photograph of your father in the hospital. The warning about Gabriel. The picture of Isabelle outside Saint Agnes.”
Carter narrowed her eyes.
“And the video of Claire?”
Elena's smile vanished.
“No.”
Isabelle felt cold.
“Then who sent it?”
“I don't know.”
Carter studied her.
“Did you work with Daniel Mercer?”
Elena's expression hardened.
“Yes.”
Alexandre clenched his jaw.
“He attacked Étienne.”
“I know.”
“And you worked with him?”
Elena looked directly at him.
“I used him.”
“For what?”
“To find the people who paid him.”
Isabelle stepped closer.
“Did you know he shot Gabriel?”
Elena shook her head.
“I didn't order that. And when I found out, I cut contact with him.”
Carter watched her carefully.
“Do you have evidence?”
Elena removed a small recording device from her pocket and placed it on the table.
“Everything he told me.”
Carter collected it.
Elena turned back toward Isabelle.
“You think the Vasseur empire is just a company. It isn't. It's a machine.”
“A machine?”
“One that turns people's suffering into profit.”
She described families forced into fraudulent loans.
Employees who lost pensions after fabricated accounting losses.
Patients whose medical records had been manipulated to conceal payments.
Children separated from parents who had threatened to expose the network.
Isabelle listened in horror.
“How many people?”
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
“Hundreds.”
The room fell silent.
Elena continued.
“I spent fifteen years finding them. Listening to their stories. Collecting evidence.”
“Then why didn't you go to the police?” Carter asked.
“Some people I approached were afraid. Others had already tried reporting what happened and believed nothing would change.”
Carter's expression remained firm.
“That doesn't justify taking the law into your own hands.”
Elena gave a bitter smile.
“No. But it explains why I stopped waiting.”
Isabelle moved closer.
“What are you planning?”
Elena looked away.
“Something that will make sure the Vasseur network can never operate again.”
Alexandre frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Elena didn't answer.
Carter stepped forward.
“Ms. Moreau, if you're planning violence, you need to tell us now.”
Elena shook her head.
“I don't want innocent people hurt.”
“But?” Isabelle asked.
Elena looked at her.
“But I won't protect the guilty from the consequences of what they've done.”
Isabelle felt a deep sadness.
Her sister had survived horrors she could barely imagine.
But somewhere along the way, justice had become inseparable from revenge.
“Elena,” she said softly, “Dad wouldn't want us to become like them.”
Elena's expression changed.
“Don't tell me what Dad would want.”
“I remember his letters.”
“I remember his screams.”
The words struck Isabelle silent.
Elena stepped closer.
“You don't remember that night. I do.”
Her voice trembled.
“I remember hiding behind the desk. I remember Mercer hitting him. I remember Dad begging them not to hurt us.”
Isabelle began crying.
Elena continued.
“And I remember the man standing in the doorway, watching.”
“Henri?” Alexandre whispered.
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone froze.
Carter leaned forward.
“Who?”
Elena looked toward Isabelle.
“That's why I came.”
She removed a photograph from her coat.
It showed Étienne Moreau standing beside a younger man outside the Vasseur headquarters.
The younger man had dark hair and a confident smile.
Isabelle recognized him immediately.
“Gabriel.”
Elena nodded.
“Your beloved uncle wasn't just a frightened witness.”
She placed another photograph on the table.
This one showed Gabriel handing Daniel Mercer a thick envelope.
The date matched the night Étienne was attacked.
Isabelle felt her stomach turn.
“He paid Mercer?”
Elena nodded.
“According to Mercer's records.”
“But Gabriel said Henri ordered the attack.”
“He did.”
Elena's voice became cold.
“Henri paid Gabriel. Gabriel paid Mercer.”
Isabelle stared at the photograph.
Another betrayal.
Another layer of lies.
Elena stepped closer.
“And that's not the worst part.”
Isabelle could barely speak.
“What is?”
Elena looked toward Alexandre.
“Your father didn't create the network.”
Alexandre frowned.
“Then who did?”
Elena's eyes hardened.
May you like
“ÉTIENNE MOREAU.”
End of Chapter 8.
