Paris – November 11, 1937 – 11:14 AM
The newspapers arrived before the bread.
On street corners, delivery boys ran — not with headlines, but with torches. The public woke up to a new scandal: "The Ghost Order: Who Ordered Reiner's Death?" printed across every window, in letters as black as the scent of conspiracy hanging in the air.
Claire and Émile watched in silence from a kiosk.
— "You think they'll deny it?" she asked.
— "They won't have to. Doubt alone is enough to sink a career. Maybe an entire government."
Solène joined them, a folded newspaper under her arm.
— "The British embassy hasn't said a word. You know what that means, right?"
— "That they're preparing their next move," Madeleine finished, appearing behind them, her eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
—
Latin Quarter – 11:39 AM
Protests began to take shape. Peaceful. Loud. Confused. No one knew exactly who to shout at, so they shouted at everyone.
Signs popped up with conflicting messages: "For Peace!" – "Traitors to the Gallows!" – "Reiner isn't the target — we are!"
Amid the crowd, someone watched from afar.
Unshaven. An old military coat. A heavy walk, as if his knees carried the weight of decades.
Armand.
His eyes were fixed on Claire. He didn't approach. Not yet.
But he knew.
The game she now led...
he had started it long ago.
—
Le Matin Newspaper – Press Room – 12:05 PM
An editor froze as a new anonymous letter arrived.
A plain sheet. One sentence:
"The second name is in the 1919 archives. Codename: LUX."
His eyes widened.
The first name caused scandal.
The second...
could start a war.