Chapter 1
“This will be good for you, Alize,” Uncle Laurent’s voice pulls me out of my reverie.
I keep staring out the window. The clouds outside are big and fluffy, and the sky is bright and blue. If happiness had a look, I imagine it would be a shot of this sky. But the beauty isn’t enough to chase the darkness out of my heart.
Sometimes, I wish I could float away, like a cloud.
Maybe if I ignore him long enough, he’ll shut up about this hare-brained plan.
“You can’t keep hiding from the world.” His voice is firm. “Frankly, I won’t allow you to anymore.”
I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes.
When I finally look at him, he’s wearing a stern expression. I know he’s trying to be intimidating, but it doesn’t give off the effect he’s going for. He just looks a little constipated.
“Take me back to the hospital,” I say, pulling the sleeves of my hoodie down over my palms. “I’d rather stay there than go wherever the hell you’re taking me.”
“We’re on our way to Switzerland,” he says.
We’ve been in the air for a few hours now. Those two sentences are the most I’ve said to him since he showed up and had me discharged from the hospital. It doesn’t even make sense. I try explaining to him why it’s so hard for me to “move on.”
He wouldn’t understand.
After being in intensive care for a couple of weeks in the US, they transferred me to another, more specialized one in France. The nurses and doctors there became my family. They genuinely cared about me. I felt at home there.
Now, he’s just appeared and ripped me away from the bit of normalcy I’ve gotten accustomed to. How does he expect me to be okay with that? My scars might have healed, but I’m definitely not better.
“Just give it a chance, Alize,” he says. He’s trying to look sympathetic, but it doesn’t work on me. It’s hard for me to think he has my best interest at heart.
Uncle Laurent is my godfather and calls himself my father’s best friend.
Though he’s never been unkind to me, it’s hard for me to trust anyone who calls a man like Michel Moreau their closest friend. So when he tells me that this is good for me, I read the situation for what it really is—it’s good for my father.
“I can’t just move on, Uncle Laurent,” I say.
“Dolores died. I almost died.” It still hurts to even say her name.
Images of her mutilated body haunt me when I try to sleep at night, and I’m plagued by the guilt of missing her funeral.
“I’m not ready to move on with my life yet, much less go to some no-name college in another country. ”
It’s all happening too soon.
My words seem to just filter through him because his cold expression doesn’t even falter.
“This is about your safety, Alize.” His hand forms a fist on the conference table between us. “This is the only place in the world where you’ll be safe.”
I scoff. Safety. Our house had so many layers of security and it was still blown up.
Uncle Laurent pushes the admission packet closer to me. It’s a brochure for Saint Frederic University, and just looking at it stings. It’s a reminder of what could have been, of what I almost had. Of what the attack took from me.
My dreams died alongside Dolores that day.
My lower lip trembles, and I shut my eyes tightly. A deep breath helps me keep down the emotions welling up in my chest. I pinch my thighs discreetly, willing the little jolts of pain to distract me. But it’s not enough—I’ve been clean since the explosion.
When I open my eyes again, I’ve found a few words for him.
“I want to make my own choices for once.”
He leans back in the leather seat, adjusting the horn-rimmed glasses on his nose.
“You can’t make your own choices when you know nothing of the situation at hand.”
His words are scathing, almost contemptuous. He’s trying to act like he’s perfectly composed, but I can tell he’s annoyed. He pulls a phone out of the breast-pocket of his coat and starts tapping away at it.
After a few moments he hands it to me.
It’s open to a page displaying an article in French.
13 Killed in Attack on Hospital.
My breath hitches, and I scroll through the article with trembling fingers. As the article comes together in my mind, I’m caught between hoping it’s not true and wishing I didn’t know at all.
When I get to the end, my eyes are wet. I can feel my heartbeat all over my body.
“Is this—” I can’t even bring myself to finish the sentence.
“Yes,” he nods solemnly. “I had you discharged just in time.”
When I look at the picture of the fiery blaze again, I recognize it. It’s the same wing of the hospital where I was admitted. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I walked those grounds with my physical therapist.
My head is light just thinking about it.
If I was still there, I would be dead.
Another realization hits me right after that, but I’m too scared to say it out loud. There’s a glimmer in Uncle Laurent’s eyes, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he’s been waiting for me to figure it out.
“You’re being targeted. Your father believes that we must take drastic measures to keep you safe.” My stomach falls. “Believe me, Saint Frederic is the better of the two options on the table.”
My father never showed up that day, even though he was supposed to.
I haven’t heard from him these last three months. No calls, not even a letter. It’s hard to believe he thinks I need to be kept safe when I was nearly killed—twice, it seems—and the most he can do is send Uncle Laurent to cart me away to “safety.”
“I’m guessing the other option was my father’s idea,” I say. “Knowing him, he probably wants to keep me in a bunker somewhere.” There’s no humor in my voice because he’s done it before.
“You’re being targeted because of him, Alize. He just wants what is best for you.”
I start pinching myself again.
My eyes burn, and I look out the window in hopes of composing myself.
I wipe the tears with my thumb before Uncle Laurent can see them fall.
I don’t have much memory of the blast—all I ever see when I try to think of it is Dolores’ bloody corpse—but his words unlock a fear that I’ve tried to keep hidden for a while.
The signs were always there.
My childhood was a hodgepodge of new homes and new faces in new places. Through it all, he was rarely ever home. When he was around, it was always tense. Everyone who worked for him feared him, and for good reason since we all knew that he was prone to violence when he got angry.
His personal life is a mystery, too. I don’t know his parents, or even if he has siblings. I don’t even know my mother’s name, since he had it taken off my birth certificate. I was always homeschooled and was never allowed to keep friends.
Two years ago, when he wanted to upgrade the security on my wing of the house, he decided against fingerprints because he didn’t have any.
Over time, I had deluded myself into thinking that things were normal, because I had spent the last five years living in New Hampshire. That was the longest we had spent in one place.
Now I know that it was a bad sign.
“So, he’s not in the coffee business, huh?” I ask.
My father never told me what he did for work, but I remember asking him if he sold coffee since he drank so much of it. I was younger than five at the time, because Dolores laughed when I asked him.
He nodded, and I’ve believed it ever since.
Uncle Laurent shakes his head. I’m embarrassed that he knows I believed that.
“What does he do, then?”
His lips form a hard line. “It’s not my place to say. He needs to be the one to tell you if he so chooses. But here’s what I can tell you—” He pushes the SFU packet closer to me. “Your father asked me to keep you safe while he sorts things out. This is the best way to do that.”
Reluctantly, I peruse the glossy brochure. There are smiling young adults on the front, standing in front of a chalet-style building with snow-capped mountains in the background. Saint Frederic University, a private university for the world’s most private people. That’s an odd selling point.
“What makes this place so safe?” I ask, flipping through the pages half-heartedly. The brochure is filled with the same generic shtick you’d expect from a university booklet. Promises of a positive learning environment, world-leading faculty and lifelong friendships.
Uncle Laurent’s eyes light up at my interest. “Saint Frederic is unique. The students there are all like you.”
I quirk an eyebrow. All of them are being hunted because of their crazy parents?
“They’ve all had…unusual upbringings. Their parents send them to Saint Frederic because of a Peace Treaty that declares it neutral territory. Regardless of the feuds that exist, killing is forbidden there.”
My jaw slackens as I try to process what he’s said. “Isn’t that forbidden everywhere?”
“You have scars to prove otherwise, don’t you?”
His words chill me, and I think of what I saw when I looked in the mirror last. Though most of the scars from the blast faded, there’s still a huge one on my abdomen. The doctors told me that it might not ever go away completely.
My throat is thick. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. There have been two attacks on my life so far. It wouldn’t be hard to assume that there could be a third.
Uncle Laurent continues in my silence.
“Your father is a dangerous man, Al. He has many enemies. Fortunately, everyone else at Saint Frederic has parents like that. It’s the safest place for you right now.
Unless you want to go with your father’s original plan of having you locked up in a high-security bunker in Moscow for the next year. ”
The air seems to disappear from the room. As much as I hate the idea of this wretched university—it’s no Harvard, that’s for sure—I can’t handle being locked up against my will again.
I’d kill myself before I let that happen to me.
“What’s it like there?”
He drums his fingers on the conference table.
“It’s different. Intense. Most of the students are involved in the…
family business. They know the stakes.” He looks away from me for the first time during the conversation.
“Truthfully, it will be difficult at first, but I’m confident you can carve out a place for yourself among them. ”
I’m confused. “I thought you said it was safe.”
Uncle Laurent sighs as though he understands something I don’t. “It is because you won’t be attacked there. But that’s about all I can assure you of.”
What the hell does that even mean?
He’s being dodgy about this whole thing, which just makes my uneasiness about the situation worse. My palms start sweating. Uncle Laurent cuts me off before I can voice my feelings.
“It’s a delicate situation. The Peace Treaty ensures your safety once your allegiances are declared to the school, but we can’t do that.
” I furrow my eyebrows. “You see, your father isn’t well-liked, even among these people.
Though there have been rumors of him having a child, nobody knows for sure.
” He starts rooting through his satchel.
“We can’t tell them who you really are, as that might just put another target on your back.
So we’ll have to invent a backstory for you. ”
“So you’re lying to get me into this place?” My voice shakes.
Uncle Laurent shrugs. “Your father agrees that it’s worth the risk. We don’t know who is targeting you. So long as you don’t tell anyone your real name, you’ll be fine.”
I don’t agree. “Won’t they realize it’s a lie, though?”
“Saint Frederic is a secretive university. The people who know of it, are the ones who need its protection,” he says matter-of-factly. “Nobody will question you unless you give them a reason to.”
My hands start to shake so I put them on my lap, out of his sight.
“Don’t worry. I made it as easy for you as I could.” He slides a passport toward me. “I’ve put together a new identity for you.”
I examine the passport. Instead of my French passport, this one is emblazoned with the United States’ national symbol. My date of birth is off by a few months. Instead of Alize Moreau, it reads Allie Clarke.
“Allie,” I test it out.
Uncle Laurent looks proud of himself. “Ingenious right? It’s one of your nicknames, so it won’t be too confusing for you.”
Not just any nickname. That was Dolores’ nickname for me.
The thought of her is my breaking point.
Besides having my entire world upended twice over the last three months, I’ll have to cosplay as an entirely different person just to stay alive. And if I cannot keep up the facade, I’ll probably die.
“Don’t look so scared, Alize.” He cleans his glasses with his tie. “It’s a new world with new rules. Just try your best to fit in. You’re an intelligent girl. I trust you can do it.”
I don’t know what to think or feel anymore.
His plan is literally to hide me in plain sight, but he’s talking about it as if he just discovered the Theory of Relativity. He might as well just wrap me in a meat suit and drop me in a river filled with piranhas.
“It was a hard decision for me to make, Al.” He’s trying to look sympathetic again.
I grit my teeth and look away from him. “But at Saint Frederic, you’ll have some sort of normalcy.
You can make friends—within reason. You can have a college experience.
” I ball my fists. I didn’t want to experience it like this.
“This will only be for as long as it needs to be. Once the threat on your life is neutralized, your father will pull you out.”
A small tendril of hope stirs to life in my chest, but I stifle it. I know better now. I will believe that when I see it.
“The name on file for your father will be Andrew Clarke. If you’re ever asked about your family, just say that they are private people,” he says. “They’ll try to read between the lines and come up with their own stories. Anything they can think of will be better than the truth.”
For a heartbeat, I wonder why anyone would even be interested in knowing so much about me. It won’t be hard for me to stick to the shadows, though. I’m used to it.
All my life, I have been invisible.
Trying to internalize everything, I nod slowly. I want to tell Uncle Laurent I don’t want to end up in a no-name town in Switzerland with the children of presumably psychopaths. But what’s the alternative? I literally have nowhere else to go.
This is the only choice I have, so I must make do with it.
I wish I had died with Dolores, and in a way I have. Alize Moreau dies right here, 30,000ft in the air over the Atlantic.
I’m Allie Clarke now.
At least I get to make her whoever I want her to be.