Chapter 9 - THE FRIEND WHO SOLD HER SOUL
Isabelle Moreau had been Élodie's closest friend for eleven years.
She knew Élodie's favorite tea.
Her fears.
Her childhood memories.
She knew how much Élodie missed Gabriel.
She knew exactly how to comfort her after the divorce.
And she had used that knowledge to betray her.
When Élodie saw the photograph of Isabelle inside her apartment, she felt something colder than anger.
She felt clarity.
For years, Isabelle had been asking questions that seemed harmless.
Did Élodie still have Gabriel's old laptop?
Had she ever found his notebooks?
Did Mathéo remember the adventure book his uncle gave him?
At the time, Élodie had thought Isabelle was being thoughtful.
Now she realized every question had been an attempt to locate evidence.
Claire immediately reported the apparent unauthorized entry.
Élodie did not return to the apartment.
Instead, she stayed at the bookstore while Thomas contacted the storage company.
The old receipt number was found in a photograph Élodie had taken years earlier while organizing documents.
It was a small miracle.
The facility was located outside Versailles.
The unit had remained paid for through an automatic arrangement.
But the account was not in Gabriel's name.
It was in their mother's.
Claire confirmed that Élodie had authority to request access as part of the estate documentation.
The next morning, accompanied by Thomas and a representative of the facility, Élodie entered the storage unit.
Dust covered everything.
Cardboard boxes.
Old furniture.
A broken lamp.
A suitcase with a missing handle.
And against the far wall stood a small wooden chest.
Élodie recognized it immediately.
Their mother's jewelry box.
She lifted it carefully.
The wood was dark and polished.
A tiny brass flower decorated the lid.
Her mother used to keep earrings inside.
Élodie opened it.
The velvet lining was faded.
There were no jewels.
Only an old photograph of Élodie and Gabriel as children.
She smiled through tears.
Gabriel was ten.
She was eight.
They were standing beside a lake, both covered in mud.
Their mother had been furious that day.
Then Élodie pressed the hidden latch beneath the box.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper.
And a second key.
This one was black.
Thomas leaned closer.
“What is it?”
Élodie unfolded the paper.
It contained a handwritten message.
Ellie, if you found this, you remembered our games.
Good.
The silver key opens the first door.
The black key opens the last.
But neither matters without the truth.
Below the message was a name.
MARIANNE DELACROIX.
Élodie frowned.
“Who is that?”
Thomas went pale.
“Marianne Delacroix?”
“Yes.”
He stared at the paper.
“She's the independent administrator Gabriel trusted.”
Claire looked up.
“Is she still alive?”
Thomas nodded.
“As far as I know.”
“Where?”
“In Switzerland.”
Élodie's heart raced.
“Then we contact her.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Laurent has been searching for Marianne for years. If we contact her carelessly, we could expose her.”
Élodie looked down at the note.
“Then we find a safe way.”
They photographed the contents and documented everything.
Before leaving, Élodie opened one more box.
Inside were Gabriel's old notebooks.
She flipped through them.
Most contained ordinary financial calculations.
But one notebook had a red ribbon tied around it.
On the first page, Gabriel had written:
If anything happens to me, remember the people.
Élodie turned the pages.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Dozens of entries.
Some were linked to charities.
Others to elderly investors.
One entry caught her attention.
Sophie Lambert — €84,000 — widow — retirement savings.
Another read:
Marc and Anne Dubois — €210,000 — medical fund.
Élodie's eyes filled with tears.
These weren't abstract numbers.
They were people's lives.
Money saved over decades.
Money intended for medical care.
Money donated to help children.
Laurent had built his fortune by taking from people who trusted him.
She thought about the expensive apartment.
The luxury cars.
The designer suits.
The vacations.
She had once admired his success.
Now she wondered how many families had suffered to pay for it.
Thomas studied the notebook.
“This could help identify victims and corroborate the financial records.”
Élodie nodded.
“Then we find them.”
Claire looked at her.
“Élodie, you don't have to carry this alone.”
She closed the notebook.
“I know.”
For the first time, she truly meant it.
That evening, Marianne Delacroix contacted Claire through an encrypted legal communication channel.
She had received word that Gabriel's emergency instructions had been activated.
She agreed to speak.
Her first words were unexpected.
“Before I tell you anything, Mrs. Martin, I need to know whether your son still has the silver key.”
Élodie swallowed.
“I believe he does.”
Marianne exhaled.
“Then Laurent is running out of time.”
“Why?”
“Because the key doesn't open a bank account.”
Élodie went still.
“What does it open?”
“A secure archive containing Gabriel's original evidence.”
“Where?”
Marianne hesitated.
“In Montreal.”
Élodie closed her eyes.
Of course.
The same city.
The same trap.
Then Marianne spoke again.
“But there's something Laurent doesn't understand.”
“What?”
“Gabriel designed the archive so that it cannot be accessed by force. It requires two independent authorizations.”
“Mine and Mathéo's?”
“No.”
Élodie frowned.
“Then whose?”
Marianne's voice became very quiet.
“Yours and Gabriel's.”
Élodie felt her heart stop.
“And if Gabriel is dead?”
“The archive remains sealed.”
“Then why take Mathéo?”
Marianne hesitated.
“Because Laurent believes your son knows where Gabriel is.”
A long silence followed.
May you like
Then Marianne added:
“And I think Laurent may be right.”
