Chapter 9 - The House at the End of the RoadThe threat changed everything.
Thomas immediately contacted the authorities handling Claire's disappearance.
He provided copies of Lucien's statement, the hospital records, and the anonymous message.
Alexandre wanted to confront Victor.
Sofia wanted to find Claire.
Genevieve wanted to turn back time.
But Thomas insisted they proceed carefully.
“If Claire is alive, we cannot risk frightening whoever is holding her.”
Alexandre paced the room.
“You think Victor kidnapped her?”
“I think we have enough evidence to justify urgent investigation.”
Sofia looked at Lucien.
“Did Claire ever contact you?”
Lucien nodded.
“Once.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“What did she say?”
Lucien looked ashamed.
“She asked whether I remembered a baby named Elise Beaumont.”
Genevieve held her breath.
“And?”
“I told her I didn't.”
Sofia stared.
“You lied to her?”
Lucien nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
Sofia's expression hardened.
“My mother was afraid every day of her life.”
Lucien lowered his eyes.
“But she still told the truth when it mattered.”
He did not answer.
Sofia turned away.
She had spent enough time listening to powerful adults explain why fear had prevented them from doing the right thing.
Fear did not erase responsibility.
It only explained how people learned to live with their choices.
That afternoon, Thomas received a call from a police investigator.
A vehicle matching the one seen near Claire's apartment had been located outside a property owned by a Delacroix-associated company.
The house stood in a remote area near Chambéry.
Alexandre wanted to leave immediately.
Thomas stopped him.
“The police are handling it.”
“What if they take too long?”
“Then we push through the proper channels. We do not put Claire in greater danger.”
Genevieve placed a hand on Alexandre's arm.
“Listen to him.”
Alexandre stared at her.
“Mom, she's my sister.”
Genevieve nodded.
“I know.”
He looked away.
For the first time, he understood how she had felt after losing Elise.
The helplessness.
The uncertainty.
The terrible knowledge that someone you loved might be suffering somewhere beyond your reach.
That evening, Sofia returned to her apartment.
She placed Camille's notebook on the kitchen table.
Beside it sat a photograph of her mother.
Camille was smiling.
Her hair was pulled back.
She wore a faded blue sweater.
Sofia touched the photograph.
“I wish you were here.”
Her voice broke.
“I don't know what I'm supposed to do.”
For years, Sofia had believed her identity was simple.
She was Camille Laurent's daughter.
She had grown up in a small apartment.
She had studied hard.
Worked part-time jobs.
And eventually become a social worker helping families facing housing insecurity.
Now she was discovering that her birth had been manipulated by people who treated children like problems to be managed.
But Camille had never treated her that way.
Camille had chosen her.
Every morning.
Every difficult year.
Every time life became unbearable.
Sofia opened the notebook again.
Near the final page, she found a sentence she had overlooked.
If you ever meet Elise, tell her that her mother never stopped loving her.
Sofia began crying.
Then her phone rang.
An unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered, “Sofia?”
Sofia froze.
“Yes?”
“My name is Claire.”
Sofia stood so quickly that her chair fell backward.
“Claire?”
“Please don't hang up.”
Sofia pressed a hand against her mouth.
“Where are you?”
“I don't have much time.”
“Are you safe?”
A pause.
Then Claire whispered, “Not yet.”
Sofia's heart pounded.
“Tell me where you are.”
“I don't know the exact address.”
“Can you describe anything?”
“A house. Trees. A narrow road.”
Sofia closed her eyes.
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Who's with you?”
Claire hesitated.
Then she whispered, “Isabelle.”
Sofia felt cold.
“Isabelle Delacroix?”
“Yes.”
“Is she holding you there?”
Claire breathed shakily.
“She says she's protecting me.”
“From whom?”
A pause.
Then Claire said, “Her husband.”
Sofia grabbed a pen.
“Claire, listen carefully. I'm going to help you.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because Camille told me about you.”
Sofia began crying.
“You knew my mother?”
“Yes.”
“She was the first person who believed me.”
Sofia wiped her eyes.
“Then trust me now.”
Claire breathed heavily.
“I need you to tell Genevieve something.”
Sofia swallowed.
“What?”
“Tell her I know she didn't abandon me.”
Tears streamed down Sofia's face.
“I will.”
“And tell Alexandre—”
The line crackled.
A man's voice sounded in the background.
Claire gasped.
“No. Please.”
Sofia stood frozen.
“Claire?”
A door slammed.
Then Claire whispered one final sentence.
May you like
“Sofia, the man who killed Henri is standing outside my room.”
The call disconnected.
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