Chapter Text
ELODIE
The walls of this place are riddled with leaks.
That was the first thing Elodie Moreau thought when she lifted her gaze and took in the mold stains blooming across the concrete above her head. It did not surprise her. The smell of damp clung heavily to the air, mingled with the stale odor of a room kept shut for far too long. In fact, there was so much dust settled over the furniture that it made her nose itch, but she supposed there was nothing worth complaining about.
She had been in far worse places.
Feeling the weight of the man’s stare from across the room, she leaned back against the rigid chair they had offered her and held his gaze. He had barely changed since the last time she had seen him years ago. His hair was streaked with gray now, and his skin was beginning to show the damage of a life shaped by adrenaline and stress. And yet his expression seemed calmer. Sharper. As if he had finally gained a kind of control he had never possessed before. It made her skin prickle. But she would not let him see that. Not until she knew why she was really here.
“Elodie.” A pronounced British accent wrapped itself around the syllables of her name as he spoke it. “You look different.”
Different
She felt the absurd urge to smile with irony at that, though there was nothing remotely funny about any of this. Nothing that crossed her path with that man’s could ever be funny.
“It’s been a while,” she replied, her tone unreadable. Hatford watched her for a few moments, carefully assessing the girl in front of him now, before reaching into his pocket and pulling to out a cigarette and a lighter.
“Your accent has changed quite a bit too,” he remarked as he exhaled, letting smoke spill from his mouth. “If I didn’t know who you were, I wouldn’t have guessed you were French.”
“Was,” she corrected, reclining farther against the back of the chair. “I’ve done a good job all these years with that. You helped make sure of it.” At that, Hatford made a low sound of acknowledgment and leaned forward over the table between them.
“That little FBI program…” he murmured, looking her up and down. She knew what he was doing. He was trying to find the girl buried beneath the blond dye and the altered accent that had been there before. “They certainly did their job well.” After that, silence settled between them, until he finally decided to speak. “I want to ask you something.”
“Of course you do. Why else would you have called me?” she asked, with a hint of reluctance. Hatford smiled and crushed the cigarette butt against the table.
“I see you still have guts,” he said. “It is certainly nice to see one of you still does.” At that comment, Elodie felt suddenly uncomfortable in her own skin, but she shook the feeling off quickly.
“What do you want, Hatford? I don’t think you dragged me out of the ass end of the world just to spend some quality time with me.” That was when he leaned back in his chair, creating as much distance between them as possible.
“Smart girl. You’re right. Something has happened. Something that may concern you.” She arched an eyebrow, trying to feign indifference, though those words alone had been enough to make her heart race. Still, she told herself to keep her composure.
“What do you mean?” she tested, looking away for a moment.
“Elodie,” he called. Then she felt his fingers take hold of her chin. The gesture made every hair on her body stand on end, but she soon realized he was not doing it with malice. It was as if he wanted every ounce of her attention fixed on what he was about to say. “If I told you there was even the smallest chance of getting your old life back, what would you say?”
“That it’s bullshit,” she snapped. And honestly, that was the very least a proposal like that deserved. What had she ever had in her old life that was worth getting back? All she had known was suffering and trauma. Three years ago, she had even been forced to flee to one of the most remote places in the world and take on a false identity just to escape the fate — the certain death — that the people who had brought her into this world had arranged for her.
“Listen to me carefully,” he emphasized, as if he could already sense her rising refusal. “Let me put it another way. If you could bring down your parents, the Moreaus themselves, wouldn’t you take the opportunity?” At that, she wrenched herself free from his grip and dragged the chair several steps back. The mere mention of her parents was enough to make her feel the ghost of a hand closing around her throat. If she had the chance to destroy them, what would she do? She would be the first to seize the blade. But she was not stupid. No one could go against them. That was a fantasy.
“Why are you asking me this, Hatford?” she demanded angrily. “Don’t you already know perfectly well who my parents are? Who they work with? I’m still living with the risk that they’ll find out I’m alive. Do you think I’m suicidal?”
“Certainly not,” he said calmly, which irritated her all the more. “But aren’t you tired of all this? Of the shadowy corner where you’ve been living for years? Where you’ll live forever?”
“I like being alive,” she answered sharply. “I like being free. Even like this. Many other women in my situation never even managed to dream about it.” Hatford nodded, lowered his hand, and reached inside the jacket he had kept buttoned until then. A folder full of pages then fell onto the table, unfolding a pile of newspaper clippings which she reluctantly began to leaf through. The farther she got, the stiffer her fingers became, until she saw her own name amid all that chaos and dropped the pages as if they had burned her.
“What the fuck is this, Hatford?” she said, furious. The papers spread across the table were full of names she had decided to bury forever at the bottom of her mind.
“As I told you, things have changed a great deal,” he began. “I know you’ve spent years cut off from the world. No internet. Barely any news. But a few months ago, something happened with my nephew. Well…” He paused, and a chilling smile appeared on his face as though he were remembering something that gave him satisfaction. “I won’t go into the details. You’ve already read them. But it gives us an opportunity.”
“I see. You’re cooperating with the FBI, but what you really want is to wash your hands clean?” she said, following the line of his thoughts. “You want to erase your trail with all of this. Remove them from the whole thing. Pin the blame on my parents.” At that, he smiled as if she had finally struck the nail on the head.
“And I need you. You see, sooner or later, the FBI will find its way to your door. And when they do, they’ll offer you a choice. Your parents’ case already has lots of weight behind it. Evidence, witnesses, names people are finally willing to say out loud. But if you leave the program and tell everything you know at trial, your testimony could be the thing that makes it impossible to bury.” Then he paused. “Look, I can’t hand your name back to you. But I can put you in the only room where that becomes possible.” For several minutes, Elodie remained motionless, staring at him. Then, a bitter laugh filled her, leaving her breathless.
“You don’t have the power to promise me such a thing,” she spat out hatefully. “I don’t trust men like you. I don’t trust anyone. Do you think I’m stupid?” Then she looked at him with all the determination she possessed. “The answer is no.”
“Not even for your brother?” The mention of that ghost from her past life was enough to cut off her breath in an instant.
“My brother?” she asked bitterly. “My brother, whom my father sold like cattle, as if he wasn’t his own son, six years ago? That brother?” Then she was the one who leaned forward. “Hatford, I barely made it out alive, and I was lucky. What could possibly be left of my brother, when he had no one?” That was when Hatford truly smiled, as if he had already won the game.
“You see? You really don’t know anything. I won’t say your brother is exactly what you remember, but he is still alive and kicking. He has been alive and kicking for a while. And your testimony would strengthen his. You could see him again. Maybe even stand beside him, if you’re smart about the terms.” Her voice caught in her throat. She had known nothing about her brother in years, though she had heard rumors. At first, she had allowed herself to hope that he was still alive, that fate had given him the chance at a better life than hers. But after everything she herself had endured and seen, hope had started to feel cruel. If Jean had survived what their father had sold him into, then survival might not have meant mercy at all. There were days when death had seemed like the most merciful answer.
“My brother is involved in all this?” Her surprise quickly turned to rage. She shot to her feet, knocking the chair over. “You dragged my brother into this fucking mess, Hatford?”
“He didn’t have many more options. But now the two of you can have a better chance. One, if you know how to play your cards right.”
“It costs you nothing, does it?” She grabbed Hatford by the collar, but he did not so much as flinch. He only looked at her with boredom. He was perfectly aware that he could get rid of her whenever he wanted. Even so, he allowed her to have her outburst. “People like you never pay the price,” she hissed. “But for people like me, it’s a coin toss between life and death. You’re asking too much.”
“Then don’t leave it to chance, Elodie,” he said. “Take the coin, and for once, rig it in your favor.” Then he freed himself from her grip with practiced ease and began walking toward the door.
“Why?” she asked. “Why does this matter to you? Why did you help me in the first place?” He looked at her over his shoulder.
“Why not? Whatever happens to me is the result of the fate I carved out for myself. You did nothing. This is simply what was done to you.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good enough reason,” she said. “And don’t try to sell me some story about being an altruist, Hatford. You’re not.” Hatford gave a lopsided smile.
“You know, I saw your brother a few months ago.” The words made her stumble back several steps, forcing her to brace herself against the table. “He mourned your death deeply when I told him. I saw it in his eyes. But I kept the promise I made you; Elodie Moreau is dead. Now and always, for as long as you want her to be. Take that as proof of loyalty, if you need it. At least between us, Elodie, there are no secrets.” When his hand was already on the door, she cleared her throat.
She hated herself for asking. Hated him more for knowing she would.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, her voice rough. “This is all I have left. I can’t afford to lose this too.” Hatford did not look back, but his voice was firm when he answered.
“Talk to Susan. Think about it.” His boots crunched on the floor. “Then meet me in L.A, and you can make your final decision.”