She never had the chance.
A distant car horn brought him back to the present.
Camille crumpled a twenty euro note and threw it into the dust.
— Here. For some milk… or whatever you want.
The note fell near Claire's damaged sandals.
She lowered her eyes for a second.
Then he looked at Alexander again.
And in that look, there was compassion.
Compassion for him.
She covered the babies' heads with her hands to protect them from the dust.
Then she left.
Without asking for anything.
Without saying a word.
Alexandre felt something tear inside his chest.
But he does not act.
Not yet.
Because he understood one essential thing: if he confronted Camille without evidence, she would erase every trace.
That night, he dropped her off in front of a luxury boutique on Avenue Montaigne .
He did not return home.
He went directly to the Beaumont Tower .
Fiftieth floor.
Office closed.
Encrypted line.
