Chapter 8 - A MOTHER'S MOST DANGEROUS DECISION
Élodie had never hated waiting more than she did that morning.
Every unanswered call felt like another door closing.
Every passing minute made the distance between Paris and Montreal seem unbearable.
She stood beside Claire's desk as the lawyer spoke with officials coordinating the international investigation.
David Mercer had disappeared.
Camille Renard was unreachable.
And Mathéo's phone had been turned off.
Thomas arrived carrying a folder.
His face was grim.
“I found Adrien's history.”
Élodie turned.
“Tell me.”
“He worked for a private security company that provided services to Laurent's businesses. Surveillance, transportation, asset recovery.”
“Asset recovery?”
Thomas looked uncomfortable.
“That's what they called it.”
Claire opened the folder.
Inside were corporate records, photographs, and employment documents.
Adrien had been involved in several incidents investigated by authorities.
Witnesses had withdrawn complaints.
Evidence had disappeared.
And every time, the company had avoided serious consequences.
Élodie stared at his photograph.
“He's the man with Mathéo.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are we still sitting here?”
Claire looked at her.
“Because we're trying to get him out without giving Laurent an opportunity to move him.”
Élodie turned away.
She knew the explanation was reasonable.
But reason felt useless when her son was frightened and alone.
At noon, a new message arrived.
This time, it came from Laurent.
Tomorrow. 10 a.m. My attorney's office. Sign the documents.
Élodie showed Claire.
The lawyer read it twice.
Then she said:
“We may be able to use this.”
Élodie frowned.
“How?”
“Laurent believes he can pressure you into signing. If he puts the documents in front of you, we'll know exactly what he's trying to obtain.”
“You want me to meet him?”
“Only with appropriate safeguards and law enforcement informed. You won't sign anything.”
Élodie looked at Thomas.
He nodded slowly.
“We need to understand what he wants badly enough to risk all this.”
That evening, Claire arranged for Élodie to review the documents in advance through a legal channel.
They were complicated.
Dozens of pages.
Trust amendments.
Beneficiary authorizations.
Financial disclosures.
At first glance, they appeared administrative.
But buried in the middle was a clause that made Claire sit upright.
“Here.”
Élodie leaned closer.
“What?”
“This provision would authorize Laurent to act as representative for certain trust-related matters and waive objections to prior transactions.”
“What does that mean?”
“It could help him argue that you approved financial decisions you never knew about.”
Élodie's stomach twisted.
“And Mathéo?”
“His name is listed in connection with a future distribution, but the language is ambiguous. We need the underlying trust records to understand the full effect.”
Thomas studied the page.
“Laurent isn't just trying to get money.”
Claire nodded.
“He may be trying to create a paper trail that protects him from the evidence Gabriel preserved.”
Élodie remembered the silver key.
The brass token.
The number 47189.
“Then Gabriel's evidence must be somewhere Laurent can't reach.”
Thomas looked at her.
“That's what he intended.”
“Where?”
“We don't know yet.”
Élodie stared at the documents.
Then an idea came to her.
“What if the number isn't a location?”
Claire frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“What if it's a sequence? A reference to something Gabriel and I knew?”
Thomas leaned forward.
“Like what?”
Élodie thought about her childhood.
Their old apartment.
Their parents' birthdays.
Gabriel's favorite books.
Then she remembered the adventure book.
Its title was The Lighthouse at the Edge of the World.
Gabriel had loved puzzles.
He used to hide messages in page numbers.
He would write three numbers on a scrap of paper.
Page.
Line.
Word.
Élodie's breath caught.
“Forty-seven. Eighteen. Nine.”
Thomas stared at her.
“What?”
“Page forty-seven. Line eighteen. Word nine.”
Claire looked up.
“Do you have the book?”
Élodie's heart sank.
“Mathéo took it to Montreal.”
Thomas slowly smiled.
“Then perhaps Gabriel expected the boy to solve it.”
Élodie shook her head.
“No. Gabriel expected us to solve it together.”
For the first time, she understood the message in the dedication.
The greatest treasures are the truths we protect.
It wasn't simply a sentimental phrase.
It was a clue.
That night, Élodie called a secondhand bookstore that specialized in older children's novels.
She described the edition.
The cover.
The publisher.
The year.
An elderly bookseller listened carefully.
Then said:
“I think I have a copy.”
Élodie's heart raced.
“Can I come now?”
“We close in ten minutes.”
“Please. It's important.”
The man hesitated.
Then agreed.
Twenty minutes later, Élodie entered the shop.
The bookseller handed her a worn blue hardcover.
She opened it to page forty-seven.
Counted eighteen lines.
Found the ninth word.
It was:
MOTHER.
Élodie stared at it.
Mother.
Her mother had died twelve years earlier.
Gabriel had been devastated.
He had kept many of her belongings.
Including a small wooden jewelry box.
Élodie remembered that box.
It had a hidden compartment.
Their mother used to keep old photographs inside.
After Gabriel's supposed death, Laurent had arranged for most of his belongings to be placed in storage.
Élodie had never collected them.
She had been too overwhelmed.
Now she looked at Thomas.
“I know where we need to go.”
“Where?”
“To Gabriel's storage unit.”
Thomas nodded.
“Do you know the address?”
Élodie hesitated.
Then remembered something strange.
Three weeks after Gabriel's funeral, Laurent had given her a receipt for a storage facility outside Paris.
He said the contents were worthless.
He had offered to dispose of everything.
She had refused.
She had kept the receipt in a drawer.
But that drawer was inside her apartment.
The apartment Thomas had warned her not to enter.
Élodie looked toward the window.
Then her phone vibrated.
A new message.
A photograph of her apartment door.
It was open.
The lights were on.
And standing inside was Isabelle Moreau.
May you like
Beneath the photograph were five words.
SHE'S LOOKING FOR THE BOX.
