Chapter 7 - THE ROOM WITHOUT WINDOWS
Mathéo had learned something important during the past three days.
Adults were not always telling the truth.
Sometimes they lied because they were afraid.
Sometimes they lied because they wanted money.
And sometimes they lied because they believed a child would never understand what was happening.
Mathéo understood more than they realized.
He knew the man who brought him to the Montreal apartment wasn't his father.
He looked like Dad.
He sounded almost like Dad.
But he wore his watch on the wrong wrist.
He didn't know that Mathéo was allergic to walnuts.
And when Mathéo mentioned the summer they had spent in Brittany, the man smiled without recognizing the memory.
Mathéo had pretended not to notice.
He had learned that pretending was sometimes the only way to survive.
At the clinic, a woman named Camille met him near the entrance.
She had tired eyes and a gentle voice.
“Hello, Mathéo.”
He stepped backward.
“How do you know my name?”
“I knew your uncle.”
Mathéo stared at her.
“Uncle Gabriel?”
She nodded.
“Is he here?”
Camille looked toward the hallway.
“Not where they told you.”
The man pretending to be Laurent approached.
“That's enough.”
Camille straightened.
“The boy needs rest.”
“He needs to cooperate.”
“He's twelve.”
“Then perhaps someone should remind him what happens when children keep secrets.”
Mathéo's stomach tightened.
Camille moved between them.
“Don't threaten him.”
The man smiled.
“Be careful, Doctor.”
He left.
Camille waited until his footsteps faded.
Then she crouched beside Mathéo.
“Do you have something your father wants?”
Mathéo said nothing.
She glanced toward his shoes.
“I don't want to take it.”
He swallowed.
“Then what do you want?”
“To help you get home.”
Mathéo studied her face.
He wanted to believe her.
But he had believed Aunt Isabelle.
He had believed his father.
And both had betrayed him.
“How do I know you're not lying?”
Camille's expression softened.
“You don't. Not yet.”
She reached into her pocket and removed a folded piece of paper.
“Your uncle asked me to give you this if I ever met you.”
Mathéo hesitated before accepting it.
Inside was a drawing.
A small rocket ship.
Three stars.
And a message.
For my little explorer: bravery isn't never being scared. It's asking for help even when you are.
Mathéo recognized the handwriting from his adventure book.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Is he alive?”
Camille nodded.
“Yes.”
“Can I see him?”
“I'm trying to arrange that.”
“Why didn't he come home?”
Camille looked away.
“Because some people were determined to stop him.”
Mathéo wiped his eyes.
“Is my mom safe?”
“I don't know. But she's fighting for you.”
He held the paper against his chest.
For the first time since leaving Paris, he felt a small spark of hope.
Camille led him into a quiet examination room.
There were no windows.
A bed stood against one wall.
A camera was mounted near the ceiling.
Mathéo noticed it immediately.
Camille noticed him noticing.
She lowered her voice.
“Don't say anything about the key in this room.”
He stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“Gabriel told me what he hid.”
Mathéo reached toward his shoe.
Camille shook her head.
“Not here.”
A moment later, footsteps approached.
Camille straightened.
The door opened.
Adrien entered with another man.
The second man wore a dark suit.
Mathéo had seen him before.
At the courthouse.
He had stood behind Laurent during the hearing.
Adrien smiled.
“Mathéo, we need to ask you a few questions.”
Mathéo said nothing.
The suited man placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Élodie leaving Claire's office.
Mathéo's heart began pounding.
“Your mother has been making some unfortunate choices,” Adrien said.
Mathéo stared at the photograph.
“What do you want?”
“Something that belongs to your uncle.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
Adrien sighed.
“Your father warned us you might be stubborn.”
Mathéo lifted his chin.
“My dad isn't here.”
The room went silent.
Adrien's smile disappeared.
“Be careful, boy.”
Mathéo's hands trembled.
But he remembered his mother's voice.
Being brave doesn't mean you aren't afraid.
He looked directly at Adrien.
“You're not him.”
Adrien stepped closer.
Camille moved between them.
“Enough. He's a child.”
Adrien turned toward her.
“You're becoming a problem.”
Camille didn't move.
“Then take it up with Laurent.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Finally, Adrien walked out.
The suited man followed.
Camille waited until the door closed.
Then she whispered:
“Mathéo, listen carefully. Someone is coming tonight to get you out.”
“Who?”
“A friend of your uncle.”
“Can I trust him?”
Camille hesitated.
“He'll know the phrase from Gabriel's book.”
Mathéo looked down at the drawing.
“The greatest treasures are the truths we protect?”
Camille nodded.
“Exactly.”
That night, Mathéo lay awake listening to footsteps outside the room.
At 2:13 a.m., the door opened.
A man entered.
He wore a dark jacket and carried a small flashlight.
“Mathéo?”
The boy sat up.
“Who are you?”
“David Mercer. I'm here to help.”
Mathéo's heart raced.
“What's the phrase?”
David paused.
Then answered:
“The greatest treasures are the truths we protect.”
Mathéo climbed out of bed.
But before he could reach the door, David grabbed his arm.
His expression had changed.
“I'm sorry, kid.”
Mathéo froze.
David lowered his voice.
May you like
“They have my daughter.”
And behind him, Adrien stepped into the room.
